Ever since I can remember I always loved reading and writing. The idea that someone would be hanging on every single word I wrote as I told a story that came out of everything or anything rattling in my head has always been my dream.
I considered writing a book many times, then that feeling seeps in, the feeling of simply not being good enough. Despite the many years of growth and recognition I always tell myself that every 30 something year old woman fantasizes about writing something. That many talented writers, “real” writers are out there and still can’t make a living out of it, what chance do I stand?
I suppose the longer I talk about the more I realize that perhaps I’m just afraid of rejection, of failure, of not finishing whatever I start, of pouring my soul into something only to have it ripped to shreds. But yes……writing, to be a writer, a “real” one, that would be my dream job.
In another life, one where I didn’t grow up disadvantaged, first gen immigrant, first gen everything, maybe in that life I would have been a writer, maybe a journalist, a full fledged journalist that won a Pulitzer prize (a girl can talk about her dream right?!).
Soulful Vida Daily 
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