Writing a book

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I’ve always wanted to start a blog. Share my thoughts with the world…and even if the world didn’t bother to look, I knew that if I had a blog, I would be able to materialize my thoughts and journal my life. At the very least, that would have been enough. The fact that there are people who read my writing makes this blog even more valuable to me.

And because I’ve always wanted to start a blog, last year, I did.

And I now no longer want to start a blog. Because I’ve done it. I’m doing it. I am doing my dream (albeit a small part of my “dreams”)

I want to be an investor. I want to be rich. I want to make an impact (whatever that means). I want to write. I want to read. I want to travel. I want to inspire. I want to educate. I want to meditate. I want to exist.

And, earlier today, sparked from a conversation I had with a friend in my Human Person class, I think I’ve decided that I want to write a book.

Will anyone read it? Will it be good? Will I even finish it?

I continue to ask those questions about each of my blog posts, but really, those are all unimportant questions right now.

Right now, I think I just need to write.

And continue to write.

And continue to be who I am.

The book will come sooner or later. But now it’s part of my list of dreams.