I’m a writer. I may not be a good writer, or a dedicated one, but I am a writer. I feel trapped, though. Writer’s block. Uninspired. Too busy. Not enough time. All these are only excuses. The only thing stopping me is myself. So here I am. Five, ten, twenty minutes a day, I’ll write something, anything. It doesn’t have to be good, or even coherent. I’ll let my mind talk, as it is now. But I’ll improve. Practice makes perfect. My band teacher always said practice doesn’t make perfect, it makes permanent, and that’s true for reflex-based skills. But not for this mental exercise.
I’m not an artistic person, really, except for writing. I guess that makes me an artist in my own way, so it’s not so bad. My imagination and creativity – well, it’s a little rough at times. But that’s okay. It’ll come with practice, and reading. I can express my words well enough, I think, if I can inspire others. That’s my goal in life. Inspiration. I want to inspire people, or at least make someone’s life better. It’s the greatest feeling to realize that you’ve inspired someone, helped them through life, made them happy. And I want to do more of that. So I write. One little thing, out of many, that can help me get there. One small step at a time.