What does it take to be a writer – a lot of hard work. What does it take to be anyone successful really – a lot of hard work.
To work hard though it’s not that hard, it’s to start – that’s the hardest part of all.
When one chooses a career path such as a writer as I have, one has to read a lot and write just as much, if not more. Yet for months now I’ve been struggling – no let’s be honest here – putting off writing anything productive at all. I do read, it’s the writing I let myself down at time and time again. If to be a writer all you had to do was read, then hey I’m halfway there but life – ahh life – life, life oh this wonderful life we lead, live is never that easy – ever.
Maybe if I was born into a wealthy family and I had all the riches I could ever possibly want EVER, then maybe life wouldn’t be so hard. How I wish I was a heiress, or a child prodigy, I would even settle fine to be a illegimiate child of some famous rock star – then I would have all the world and more within my arms reach. Oh if only. If only. If …
But I’M NOT.
Alas, sob sob, I am completely normal. I am not wealthy, neither am I rich. I am no heiress or child prodigy. And as for rock stars, stars that’s all they are to me. But money does not make the world go round, although it does help (in MA-UH_SIVE ways), so I can far from complain. I have an amazing rock of a mother, who has taught me all she knows, all I know and a daddy who’s always been there, here, everywhere. I have two beautiful, exceptional sisters and a lovely, prodigious brother, all who I frankly don’t deserve, for they love me far more than they really should. If there was any need for my family to point out a black sheep of the family, it would most certainly be me, so already with my unworthy qualities, I should not complain.
Atleast I have my health. Atleast I am normal. I have two arms, two legs which both work just as well when put to the test. Twenty/Twenty vision ( or so I say so myself), thin but (again I would like to say) juicy lips (haha) and a if a bit bent, perfectly fine nose. Although I am short (petite uhum uhum) and honestly don’t like the size of my, should I say boobs or breasts, ( and no I don’t want them bigger, infact I want it the other way) other than that I am happy, seriously content with my body and the way I am. So compared to all the less fortunates, I should not complain.
Again I repeat, I was not born wealthy, nor rich but neither was I born poor. My lifestyle and everything within my reach are all possible only because of my mummy and daddy and I am always very thankful for that. They have provided me and my siblings far more than their mummy daddy ever did, far more than most parents would for their kids, so I am eternally grateful. I have a brain, I get fine grades, I have a job and I’m going to university coming September. I always have food to eat ( too much food that I have to use my herculean strength to resist), clothes to wear and a cosy shelter forever over my head. So considering all the people in this world who struggle everyday just to survive, I have absolutely no right to complain.
But hey what can I say, it’s always more easy to contemplate the lives of the more fortunate than the less, it’s always less tiring to just imagine what you’ll do than to do what you imagine, it’s always more pleasant to spend your days in your head than in reality – isn’t it.
But these are again all just excuses, my excuses.
When I was younger I thought the whole world revolved around me, not in a big headed way but just the childish one where the outside world and complete strangers remain just that, forever outside your little comfortable bubble. But I’m not young anymore, far from young, I reached the big 2-0 this year and looking back on my life, I regret the past three of my wasted years. As a teenager, as a young adult, life is very tumultous and in a society where every negative aspect of life is glorified, it’s very easy to fall down a wrong path and lose yourself to many foolish follies and vice.
The worst thing I find about life is that mistakes – mistakes—you only realise it’s a mistake after it’s too late. In a optimistic light, mistakes teach you valuable lessons, in a pessimistic, it’s just the opposite. But life is life, a non-stop, on-going, never ending journey in life right until the day you die. That’s why you just have to MOVE on. Move on. Move on. There’s nothing else really. To be caught up in your past means you will constantly be restricted by it. Time goes on so life goes on.
I have learnt a lot in the past couple of years, I find that from a rebellious, uncontrollable teenager I have blossomed into a quite mature young adult ( well that’s my view anyway haha). I’m not perfect but hey who really is.
Now I’m 20. Ahhh the big 2-0. Although it feels no different, it’s strange how quickly this age has come. Far too quickly, I haven’t even done anything yet, achieved anything yet. It is also my age that makes me think I should get a move on. I want to be a writer. There I’ve said it. Now I’m not going to lie and claim that that’s been my dream all my life but it is my dream right now and has been for a while. Frankly there is nothing else I would rather be. But I’m not completely naive either.
I know it will be hard. I’m already finding it hard. Truthfully after my GCSE’s four years ago, I had stopped reading, writing completely for almost two, three years. Now some people may laugh at my dream of being a writer. So be it. But it’s my dream and I am trying to catch up.