I fight for every last word that I write down. I fight to gather fractured sentences and I fight constant writers block. I fight dying pens and crinkled paper and “H” keys that never want to work. I fight rules and busyness that keeps me from thinking about writing for days at a time. I fight self criticisms and realizations that I can not write because I was not meant to write, yet if I do not write, I don’t feel quite right. I fight the urge to quit writing. I keep writing because I have to. It’s my life.
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