What if the whole world stops reading?
Keep writing.
What if no one believes anything I write?
Keep writing.
What if the words just won’t come to mind?
Keep writing.
And when I’m old and my hands are feeble?
Keep writing.
Because writing is more than just an attentive audience.
More than just a common cause.
More than poetic and descriptive words.
Even more than pen-in-hand locomotive.
Writing is appreciating the dark twists and turns of life
for being just as detrimental as the smooth open road.
Writing is dancing to the rhythm of each step without
knowing where you’re going.
Writing is seeing the connection between God and man.
Writing is the gentle breeze of understanding in the heat
of a hard battle for your own sanity.
Writing is a lighthouse beaten repetitiously by the ocean
of freewill, yet still shines a light of compassion.
Writing is a way out when the door is closed.
Writing is more than scribbled words
written by troubled souls on notebook paper.
It’s the hidden words screaming in our hearts
that have miraculously found their way out
Just keep moving. 
I keep on asking for support 😪
Anyone keep an anxiety journal?
Learn to let go and you will recover.
