Writing no longer serves its purpose to me like it used to.
Back then, when I finally finished writing something, a sense of relief and peace took over me.
Now, sense of worry and fear dominates me.
“Was the information correct?”
“Did I miss out on anything?”
“Will people read it?”
“How many page views will I get?”
I know, I shouldn’t be bother.
But I can’t help it.
I put my heart in every word, every sentence.
I thought it through for every line.
I don’t write because it is my job to write.
I write because I need to write.
And I want to be good.
No, I want to be great in writing.