I wish I knew what drives me to write. I want to believe that I have something vitally important to say to the world, but there are days when inspiration is hard to find. Perhaps I am mistaken about my importance in this world, but I put that thought out of my mind because I know I am worthy of being heard.
Somedays, my blog gets very few hits. Other days, I am thrilled to see how many people have stopped in and read something. I learned not to let the numbers bother me. If I want to write, that is my decision. I cannot make other people interested in what I write. Eventually, the right people will see what I’ve written, and that knowledge comforts me.
I write because it calms my mind. I have journals that will never be published because they are private. I know what to post and what to keep to myself. The writing itself is what I need.