She always wanted to be a writer but spent most of her life never putting pen to paper. Books, books, and more books...she read like it was the air she needed to survive. Always in search of the story, the journey, the magical life that books bring, but she could never finish a story, a novel, not even a damn two-line poem.
Why? She asked constantly through the years, why? The answer was simple and complicated all at the same time...because she was lazy, because she was insecure about her "work". It was simple because she knew the reasons, had always known. But also, difficult to get past it, to push through the nonsense that racked her brain not allowing her to fulfill her destiny.
And that's what it was, it was what she was meant to do. She knew it in the depths of her soul that books and writing were what would make her complete, that's what her legacy should be.
All those years of working a job just to get by, but thinking about a whole lot of other possibilities she could do or be. She would try to learn-life coach, wellness coach, maybe start a career selling essential oils or whatever...but, no...she did nothing.
Until one day it came back to her like a whisper and a sledgehammer all at the same time-WRITER. And she knew, she found peace in the thought and picked up a pen, put it to paper and began with the sentence; She always wanted to be a writer, but...