I keep telling myself I want to write more, but I am so so busy, and then when I do actually find time to write, I feel as though I have nothing to say, or at the very least, I’m too exhausted to say it. A strange place to be if you identify as a writer, no? But I want to at least try, otherwise it sort of feels like life is just passing by. Mind you, this isn’t a bad thing, because life is really full of lots of wonderful (and challenging) things. But these past few years have been some of the most life-changing in my life, and also the first period of time where I haven’t been regularly recording things in the form of blog posts, journal entries, letters, whatever, which feels so entirely not me. So here’s a start, though hopefully not a false one.