Notebook

My friends know how much I wanna be a writer.
They know how much I love to write.

So much so, that for my 23rd birthday, they bought me a hard cover notebook (along with many other great things).
I felt like it was a symbol of something that would help me begin that journey or just to have paper and pen whenever I had the inspiration or the need to write something down.

For the longest time I never wrote anything in it.
I didn't think anything was worthy of being written on those lined pages, but last night, I was reading and suddenly I had the feeling of wanting to write something.

I made my first entry in that black notebook last night and the words within that piece were so honest, so raw, so true that I don't know if I'll ever post them here on this blog or just leave them within those pages.

It was about one of my true fears in life.
Something I've never been able to speak out loud about or been able to share with anyone before.
I don't know why exactly...

I want that book to be filled with words that will someday make an impact on someone.
I don't care for the fame and fortune that everyone else seems to crave.
I just want to write words, that hopefully, someday, someone will read and it'll make them cry.
Or make them smile.
Either way, I want the words that I write to make an impact on someone else.
If I can make that happen, then nothing else really matters to me.

Peace out yo.
x
chauie
'Sometimes I can't explain, and I'm so sorry that I can't' - Wish You Were, Kate Voegele