I once told myself there are plenty of fish in the sea and you don’t need to find nemo. I lived life believing in my own words, thinking that if something didn’t go your way that there were better things to do. I believed in giving up in order for something better to happen. I didn’t see the point in trying so hard, if someone told you weren’t good enough that meant that. Why bother trying to be better anymore? Why bother trying to be good enough?
Because such is the nature of life. Only the strong survive, only the ones who hold their heads up high, the ones who stick with it through thick and thin, through sickness and in health till death do us part. The ones who are ready to marry into the search of something more than what this life has to offer.
I don’t know what I want in life. I don’t know what I want to do when I grow up, I don’t know a lot of things, but I’m in the search for the long run and there is one thing I do know and that is that writing means more to me than I have discovered. It’s a cure to the cancer that I tend to have of over thinking life and forgetting to live it.
I’m writing this in hopes that one day this blog gets out there to the world and that if it does that would mean I would’ve found what I was looking for, which is a passion for this life, a reason to wake and a reason to live. The thing that separates surviving from living. I’m in search of the dream of being a writer that makes me live and that’s my nemo.