Word count

I’ve always wanted to be a writer, I thought writing would take me far in life. Writing seemed to me like an easy job to do, if you write a good book or story you get a good pay if you don’t then you better find another publishing house. Turns out I know nothing about being a writer, even if writing is what helps me express myself it still doesn’t make me a good writer or make me good with words. It makes me, a person who would rather write down how horrible or how happy I feel than sharing that with another person.

Writing has been a big part of my life there past two years, and I’ve decided that writing is my future but now as I grow up and learn more about it I truly start to disagree with myself. I don’t want to write a story that has an end line, I want to write a story that never ends. Something I can go back to and rewrite or add stuff to when ever I feel like I need to, something that I like and express my vision. Writing went from a good hobby to something I had to do to get a grade and I don’t think I like it as much anymore. I used to be enchanted by writing and the stories my head came up with but now I have to dig up a story that I don’t exactly like.

But mostly all people wouldn’t even bother giving this a second though. This feeling is dying slowly as I grow up, and I don’t want to loose it. I don’t even think this is an actual short story, it sounds more like an essay. I’ve stared talking about being a writer and ended talking about my thought of humanity. I just truly wish I felt the same way I used to about writing as I did before.

I wish I wanted it so bad that I worked hard to get it, and I would let anyone or anything get in my way, But that’s not me, I’m a quitter. I give up easily on things or maybe I don’t want them hard enough to try beyond my abilities. I’m at 930, and still I have not found a meaning to this. I don’t think I will ever be a writer or even get any of my writing published, I suck at spelling and I don’t think I’ll do as well as I expected in this class. There’s so much competition and ten time better writers than I am. I don’t think I’m even considered a writer.

Hopefully one day I regain my interest in being a professional witter again and pursuit my dream and work with a great publishing house and share my thought with the world and have people relate with me. Now I’m at 1513.