I want to write. It's been awhile since I've had that feeling. After all, while I love my job, I do end up staring at a computer screen, reading and writing text for the better part of everyday, which makes it difficult to WANT to write when I get home.
But today the desire is there. I want to write.
I don't know what to write.
So I sit here and type random nonsense, hoping that at some point inspiration will kick in and I'll write something profound and meaningful and purposeful and just right for today. But then I look at the clock and realize that I'm supposed to go to bed in a few minutes and I feel pressured and rushed and certain that nothing profound will come out of this post.
And, somehow, I'm okay with that.
Today I am okay with just getting words on "paper". Because it means I'm writing again. And it means that tomorrow, when I sit down to write, it will become a little bit easier because I have the beginnings of a habit.
Writing is cathartic... trying to spell cathartic, not so much...
Writing is me.