I'm trying to figure out why it is so hard for me to find that one thing in my life that is just for me.
I know what I'm passionate about. I love writing gay romance, specifically m/m. I can't describe the joy find writing about two men finding each other, and against all odds (because lets face it, no matter what I would like, our world is still a homophobic, bigoted one) they fall in love and make it work.
Honestly, it's not even simply m/m romance. I love reading hetero romance too. I've never tried my hand at writing it, but to me, love is love no matter what form it comes in.
All things said, that is a passion for me.
The problem is this. A fundamental part of my personality is to sacrifice my time for others. Yes, I know how horribly egotistical that sounds, but if I'm being honest, it's the truth. Given two choices, my first instinct is to choose the one that benefits another person more than myself.
That has left me though, with a life where there is nothing that I can truly call my own. I exist solely for other people; my family, my friends, my co workers. There is not one thing in my life that I can call mine.
So, needless to say this is something I need to find. Is this a midlife crisis? Quite possibly. I'm the right age for that.
If you want to join me on this journey, I'm happy to have you along. I will be writing again. That's a given. I will share here, I will vent, I will cry and I will scream. In the end though, I will be happy. I will be fulfilled. That is a promise I'm making to myself, right now.
So, here's to new beginnings, right? Let's see where this journey takes us.
