Writing was like breathing to me. Something that I needed to survive but…

I don’t know at what point I stopped writing at all.

I think I let love get the better of me. Love… love?

—–

Yes love.

It’s gone now anyways. Well not quite. Love knocks again and again.

In different shapes and forms.

What will happen? I don’t know.

but I am here to stay.

After all, what doesn’t kill me only makes me stronger right? right?

Right.