Oh no, writing is scary

I was passively convinced to start writing a blog by my roommate who writes one of her own. I have never written for anybody but teachers and actually have no idea how to write an interesting piece. I could shield myself and say this a personal blog but that would be a lie. If I were to write something for myself I would do so in a carefully guarded book.

If you haven’t already noticed, I am an ugly writer. I rarely type any punctuation mark other than a period. I’m not even sure my last sentence was a sentence. My writing, much like my life, has no structure nor direction.

So why am I writing this? Well, I believe the answer can be found in the last sentence of the previous paragraph. I do things sometimes, all sorts of things and I don’t know why I do them, I just do. I have learned languages, lived on three continents, travelled and loved more than most my age. My mother once tearfully described me as a “restless soul,” which was a perfect description.  I feel as though I’ve already had five or six ‘stages’ in my life. I’d like to think that all of these ‘stages’ have taught me something important but I can never seem to find out what.

Well there you have it, this may be the reason for my blog. A not so private reflection on the stresses and lessons learned in my life. Sounds like every other blog ever written. Fantastic.

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One Response to Oh no, writing is scary

  1. Pingback: The Imaginary Sniper | dpeacewrite211

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