i have always wanted to write.

 

how funny it seems to say that; to type those words and to know that there are millions of people out there who have probably thought, typed or written that very same thing at some point in their lives. it feels kind of trite… and yet, for me, it also feels good. natural. less cliche than it should.

 

my mind is a busy place. it can handle multiple thoughts at any one time; i’m a daydreamer by nature, able to be looking out the window and typing an email at the same time. sometimes, i am thinking up stories. other times, i am remembering something i have read. and yet others still i am thinking broader things or concentrated ones, wishing i were writing them down as i go.

 

i am a bookworm by nature; my mother swears i could read (or at least, recognise the same words over and over) before i could walk. i feel like many of my fellow bibliophiles are writers, too. perhaps its something about loving good books that makes you want to write one? or maybe it’s that reading often opens your mind up in a way that nothing else can.

 

so here i am. committing to write more, if only for me; although, i would love for others to share in this journey with me, too. i can’t promise much, except that i’m a little bit odd and so, this blog is likely to be a little bit odd too.