I am at the beginning of that path. Actually, probably more scratching on the door that would let me out so I can go on it… Knocking on it, not very convincing way at all, as if I were scared to go there…
So many times in the past I’ve knocked on that door, then stopping, shocked by the thought – what would happen if the door will actually open? If I will see that path and step on it? Then what? What if all the dreams, all that I think I have in me, would turn out to be nothing, if nobody will ever want to hear it?
Because I do not believe in writing just for myself anymore – I was doing that my whole life actually, starting in grade 5, as a homework assignment : “Write a diary for one month”. That was marked (how did the teacher justify that I have no clue, but that’s her problem I guess…), and I got hooked. So I was always writing there, for myself, hiding it or showing just to the chosen few, who thought the same way, and did the same thing. All the notebooks filled with thoughts, life, first and next loves, poems… That was for myself.
Then a big switch came, I packed my life into two suitcases and went into unknown. And lost myself. And then got used to it… I thought I’d never be able to write again. In my native language I couldn’t anymore… In English I wouldn’t dare…
Then came 2015 and somehow something changed, though I have no idea what and how. All I know I want to give it a try. Scared as heck, doubting myself every single step. To the point of freezing for a day or two, with a blank sheet of paper instead of thoughts and ideas. I am not too sure where to start.
I know I talk about this a lot. About not being sure if it makes sense. If I should just give up right here and avoid disappointment later on.
But I also know that the more I talk about it, the more sure I become that now is the time to give it best try. Whatever the “it” would be, and whatever comes out of it. 😉