She sat in her room thinking.
Writing had always been a passion of hers. Irrespective of whether she took it up as a career or not, it was something she loved to do. It was something that made her calm down. It was something she enjoyed.
But something was wrong.
She hadn’t been able to put pen to paper in the last couple days.
She was confident that it wasn’t writers block. It was something else.
For some reason, her mind was functioning normally anymore.
She was usually he kind of person who didn’t worry much. She took life as it cake and enjoyed life however hard it got.
But no, she was worried.
She knew that if she couldn’t write, it meant something was bothering her. It meant that sub-consciously, she was probably panicking.
Her writing was the one thing she had left. She knew that life wouldn’t be the same if she couldn’t do that.
But what option did she have?
Writing had never been something that she forced herself to do. It had always been something that came to her automatically.
She took a deep breath in. She needed to calm down.
There was no point in her sitting there worrying. She had to do something. Her room was starting to make her feel claustrophobic.
She closed her Mac and put it to the side.
She took out her favourite sweater. It was cold outside, but it would give her the reality check she needed.
She took her keys and opened the door to go on a walk when something struck her mind. She walked back in, picked up her pen and paper and walked back out.
She might be panicking, but she realised, she was still who she was, irrespective of anything that was happening in her life.