i think i know why i stopped writing. i wrote to kill. I wrote to maim. to destroy the people who wronged me. i wrote as a means for revenge — but somewhere along the line i stopped wishing for vengeance. and i, essentially, lost my will to write alongside it.

but you know what, my angel? i want to write for love. i want to write for love in the sense that i choose it everyday. i want it, i love it, and i make a conscious effort to make time for it.