At least that's what people tell me. See, there was a time where I wrote. A lot. And it made me happy, kept my mind agile and open, gave me something to do other than sit about and rot. But life got in the way. And for years, I stopped writing. Ran myself through the wringer, tried and failed and gave up on a lot of things. I sat about. I rotted.
But it's a new year. And there's a lot of stuff I need to get done if I want to shape myself up back into some semblance of a decent human being. And one of those things is to write more, to force myself into a ritual where I can look back each day, each week, and hold myself accountable for every time I didn't get off my ass and take a step forward.
So who knows? There isn't much of a chance many people will see this, and quite frankly, I'd like to keep it that way. Because this isn't for you.
It's for me.
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