I Need to Write

I enjoy it. I always have. I started a journal when i was 12 and have more or less kept it up, to varying degrees, ever since, as it morphed from yellow lined tablets to bound blank books to files on a 486 pc, to files on a newer laptop, interspersed with this sort of thing...

The problem is that I rarely let myself make enough time for it, like depriving myself of that tasty piece of cake, or feeling guilty if I do indulge.

I often feel like a tortured artist, who can only manage to be creative while miserable and loses the desire during happier moments in life. Such irony.