I keep telling myself……………. Let me rephrase that… I keep asking myself: Am I destined to be a writer? Are we here for a specific reason? Or is it that all we are supposed to know is to live each day happy, to the fullest and blessed without worry of what’s to come tomorrow? Is there such a thing as soulmates? Or has there never been any other couple called soulmates since Adam & Eve prior to before the break up after she ate the apple? Am I “beautiful enough” for me to feel beautiful and confident?! Or does people’s feelings, thoughts, judgments decide how I should feel about myself?….. I also keep asking myself what makes me happy?…………. let me rephrase that again… I keep asking myself what makes us happy?
I’m not quite sure what the answer is to that. Or what the answer is to any questions in the latter.
All I know is I love to think. I love to feel. I love to know about others. I love to meet strangers. I love to see what others think. I love to wonder what strangers feel. I love to question if others love to know about others. Not just about others in the limelight, or those in powerful positions, or others that are what society defines as beautiful or glamorous, but about others that have nothing in common with one another but the fact that they both breathe. I love different thinking. I love that we don’t have to have the same likes & dislikes.
To love is to be passionate. To be passionate we must be loved. Not only by others. But by ourselves. We must passionately love for passion & love only come to those who think it, feel it and know it.
Why I’m writing this right now?! Who knows. I guess I’m just practicing my writing because “I wanna write…. I am a writer.”