I wake up, go to work, come ome, watch a few hours of tv, go to sleep. Sometimes I take a bath before I go to sleep, sometimes it's a shower in the morning. When did I start living someone elses life?
Sometimes I get to write, sometimes I don't, and every day I'm reminded of how important it is that I finish a novel, and get it published.
There's nothing wrong with this life of course. It's just not right for me. I can't imagine doing this day in and day out for a year, let alone 15 or 20.
Still, I have a goal. I want to go back to school. I want to move to Maine. I'm only here as a means to an end. I know that. Yet I have to keep on reminding myself that this is only temporary, this is only a way to get me to my dreams.
Ahh... I'll get there.
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