I always thought that when I will eventually start writing professionally, and putting myself out there, that I will be doing it for other people, I will be doing it to enrich someone’s life and make them find some sort of meaning within my words. The thought of that made me very anxious, I can compare it to stage-fright. I had this fear of getting it wrong and that it will not have any impact or that my writing will be heavily criticized. Since deciding to take this leap of faith, I have realized that writing and reading have always been my solace, my words belong to me, they are the balm for my wounds. I write for myself, I put down the words that I wish I could hear but never do. We are always ok with doing the bare minimum for ourselves, which made this journey of putting my writing out into the world much easier. It feels less heavy and causes less anxiety knowing or rather believing that it is just for me, that only I will be disappointed by it or find happiness in it. Whatever else it leads to or whoever else it helps, is just an added bonus, sort of when you water the plants and some insects get a few drops; if that makes sense. Writing has always been there, at the worse and at the best of times.  Writing for myself is the best thing I could have ever done for myself.