#dreams
I want to be a writer because, in all seriousness, it makes me better. It grants me empathy, understanding, encourages me to seek a deeper view of the world. When I write, dimensions bloom. Life, instead of a straight black line, becomes a full spectrum of color and light. Fulfilling and wonderful and absolutely fascinating, yet deep and dark and painful, all at the same time.
In the end, at least for me, the pleasure outweighs the pain. Writing pushes me right up to the edge of the abyss, but never lets me fall.
There’s something about pen and paper that calls to me. I don’t know what it means to NOT love this. Furthermore, I don’t just want to be a writer; I want to be a damn good one.
I want to write stories that rip your heart from your chest and leave it bleeding on the floor. I want you to care about my characters like they are your friends, your family. When they hurt, I want you to feel their pain; when they laugh, I want you to laugh; when they cry, I want tears to stream down your cheeks. I want my words to move you so much that they change your life.
And I’m not giving up yet.
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