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.