Thirty. Thirrrrr-tyyyy. Thirty? Thirty! 30.
No matter what way I write it. It still sounds exactly the same.

I…
am….
thirty.

As the months, weeks, days, minutes, seconds and – well even milliseconds –  were winding down to my final farewell of my 20s, I knew that I was going to be entering one of the biggest “AHA!” moments of my life.

“AHA! I’ll be a writer!”

For weeks I thought I knew what I was going to write about, and I thought by now I would’ve figured out exactly how I’d start this thing off….and that everything else would just flow naturally?! But now, as I begin to write my thoughts down I realize that I have no structure in the way I want to begin my story. I just know that I want to be here, on this blank page, writing my empty thoughts, my empty words, in hopes that somehow they will find themselves together in the way I need them to.

But is that enough?

Truth be told, I really don’t have any sense of direction with this – or in fact with anything, really. All I do really know is that I want to be here. Right here, on this empty page. Pouring my soul out; Pouring my fears out; Pouring my life out; In hopes that by the end of all of this I can at least say I took the path less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.

So here we go…
**click –> below to navigate**