I always talked about writing. I always told myself that it's what I wanted to do, what I was good at. I would sign up for online blogging sites(like this one), convincing myself that I would start writing all of these articles, create a portfolio and become recognized as a good writer. However, each time I filled out my information, hit the sign up button and started the process, I never went through with it. I would start writing a piece, save it, and never re-open it. I never published a piece of writing, so I would tell myself, "Oh, it's too personal to put my work out there,” or “Oh, this next website will be better, I like this one better."
 
Now, on a day like today where ends don't meet and I feel like I'm running an uphill battle to reach my full potential, I start to reflect on why I've never been able to finish something I've started. I love to write; I’m writing at this very moment because it is the only emotional outlet I have that actually works. I was crying five minutes ago when I opened up this word document, yet my tears have dried now.
 
There is something interesting within the way writing can soothe the soul. It brings out a certain presence of serenity. A way to vomit up everything that eats you alive inside, so that it's no longer doubling you over with pain and nausea. There is a unique honesty to it, because if you are reading this and think I'm overly dramatic, or that my writing sucks well then you can stop reading at any time. No one is forcing you to listen to my inner most abundant thoughts. Yet, for those that keep reading, it calms me, knowing that maybe they have felt the same way once, or because they genuinely care about what I have to say.

So why don't I write more often? Why don't I publish my work so that other people can relate to it, so other people can feel understood, because I've felt that way too. The reason, from what I have reflected upon, comes from a huge fear of failure. It's the reason I have always stopped myself from doing the things I love and creating a career out of them.
 
It terrifies me to know, that you may be reading this, critiquing my every word, sharing this article with your friends, laughing at my honesty. I've been there before; I've made fun of people with my friends for something they created or something they did. It is terrifying to take your mind and shake out all of its thoughts onto a piece of paper, for everyone to read, judge, and remember. What if they think it's stupid? What if my feelings aren't good enough to be heard?
 
The fact of the matter, is that I've been through a lot of hardship, especially within the past couple years. Loss, guilt, betrayal, and the list goes on. It is so hard to move on, because it is so hard to feel understood, to feel as though I am not the only person who feels that way. As humans, we take comfort in intimacy, in knowing that our demons are shared. There is no better sensation, then reading an article, written by someone leading a normal life, who has experienced in somewhat of similar ways, the things you have. There is no better feeling then reading someone’s thoughts and saying in your mind, “yes, I understand, I get the way that she or he feels, because I have felt it too.”

With that said, I am going to start writing. I am going to publish my work, this being the first, and I am not going to care if it offends you, if you laugh at me, or if you think all of my ideas and thoughts are absolutely bizarre. If I can reach out to one person, who has felt the things I have felt, and make them feel understood, make them feel that they are not alone, then that is all I need.