BookRix

I’m the kind of person who always hated talking about myself. While in a classroom or work place setting, when asked to describe myself I would freeze. Thoughts and vague ideas would swirl through my mind, but the bigger words that took up all the attention was the question. Who am I? Out of fear I would quickly rattle off something short and obvious like, I like to read and write. That’s what I would always say, read and write, write and read. The only things I ever seemed to do with my life, the only things I liked doing. Years would pass from those vague days, the answer read and write became less and less true as I seldom ever did those two things. It used to be so simple. To read whatever was available, but now it has to hold my interest with a far tighter grip. Writing, I admit, I put far above reading, reading was entertainment, but writing was, is, so much more. To write whatever I felt like without thoughts of judgment, just putting my pen to paper, or fingers to the keys. Not anymore. Now I look down on each and every sentence with an uneasy apprehension of how a reviewer could tear it apart. I mostly blame Goodreads for this.
There is more to me than reading and writing of course. Yet I feel like those two important things are unraveling from me, becoming thinner, less defined. What was once so cherished, I’m letting be taken from me by thoughts of the world. So here I am, fighting to get them back. This is where I’ll write whatever I want, without letting the world rip it from me. Here is where I’ll say no to fear, no to laziness, no to complacency. This is a start.