So, I’ve never written before. I’m not a writer. I’m not much into reading either. Vocabulary is mediocre at best. You’ll probably notice mistakes while you read through the mistakes I made in life.
From being in a relationship with a predator, which wasn’t even the only things wrong about it, to indulging in meaningless sex to questioning my choices and decision, my LIFE as a whole. Be prepared for the depression of a lifetime in each read.
Why I write? I mean, I hadn’t ever penned my thoughts until just a couple of years back, that too, barely something worth reading. But then why now?
It’s engaging, to me. And I wonder if anybody will ever read this. Would be nice to know that there’s somebody who knows how you feel and you don’t know who they are so you don’t worry about the judgments or the vulnerability that sharing brings to a person.
I will not write down very long pages. Just one incident a day. One terrifying or maybe sometimes beautiful memory per day. One load off my shoulder.
Wonder what life would have been like with none of these incidents to narrate. I’d bet my life on it in a breath.
Haha! Feels funny already, venting out like this. Feels light rather. Like a high!
That would be it for now.
I’d come back again tomorrow.
Bye!!strong text
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