But I feel like it should be. I love writing so much, the freedom it brings me and the worlds I can create are unmatched. But sometimes it’s so difficult.

Why is it so difficult? Why is it so difficult to do the thing I love so much?

How can something that gives me so much life, bring me so much dread?

I’m trying to do the things I love, to write about the things I love and the things that are so important to me. But I feel like I’m battling myself, and the rest of the world, all at the same time.

I just hope one day I make it, one day it gets easier. That said I’m not sure who I’d be without the fight, but I suppose that’s a future me problem.