I’m here to begin once more.

Consistently.

I know that when I do start writing regularly, that’s when the greatest danger happens.

I feel that I have arrived. And stop.

I must never, never, ever feel I’ve reached the end. I mean there is an end.

And that’s at the end of life.

So I write and I create a streak. And when I make the streak, I want to feel that I’m starting all over.

I write for myself. I’m having a hard time doing just that than to please others.

If I write something that resonates with anyone reading this, that’s great. I’m glad that the message has gone out and made an impact.

I remember when I kept writing that I did resonate with some people.

Perhaps that will happen again. Perhaps it won’t.

I write for myself. I write to figure stuff out for myself. I write the lessons and the steps I want to make.

I allow myself to succeed and fail. I allow myself to be me.

I allow myself to fear of the outcome. But I go through all the way, every day.

One day at a time. One step at a time. One stroke of the pencil. One word at a time.