I used to write.
Writing gave me the escape I needed from reality, even if it was just for a few moments. I would dream (and daydream) about what I would write, and it would take away much stress. I gave up.
I never really thought I would. I used to post my "writings" on sites, and I would have people comment/email/basically talk to me about the things I wrote. It became too much of a commitment for me. I loved it, but I couldn't find the time to actually post my stuff, and when I DID have the time, I didn't feel much like posting.
Sort of made me realize that I don't really know what I want. I'm trying to find out, but half the stuff I tell myself is a lie. Grr. This is all sounding a bit like teen-angst, no?
