Every year or so I decide to start writing.
Then another year goes by and I make that same decision again… but I never actually see it through.
Because of fear.
Fear that what I write will be cut down or that I will fall in other’s estimation of me. And that this will somehow lower the value of my existence.
But every time I try to create the best version of what others want me to be, I disappoint myself anyway.
I have decided to begin the new year and the new decade writing anything that feels right to me.1