I discovered I like writing, more than I might admit out loud. Writing, although it takes a lot of time, is more enjoyable lately.
A few times ago I thought I wanted to bury this part of myself, leaving it somewhere I won't find in the future, but I always came back to it, quite surprisingly so.
How could I ever think that something that made me feel alive and dead at the same time could be taken off so easily? How could I think a piece of me, that made whole, wouldn't leave a trace of its emptiness?
With this piece of mind, I'd like to say I'm back, and that I'll try to stay as long as I can.
Thank you for your attention.
