I used to believe that writing even one sentence at the end of the day was worth it, just to remember the joy I felt or something fun I did or an impression I’d had that gave me hope to keep going.
Then I had some hard days. Oh, SOOO many hard days. Did I say days? I meant months. And years. And some excruciating moments I didn’t want to remember.
So I stopped writing on those days. And soon I stopped writing on other days too. Part of me felt it was a lie to just write about the good times, even though noticing them had helped me stay positive in the past.
Continue reading “I Still Believe”