Some days I wonder why I chose to share my writing with others, and then I get a sweet note or kind review that thanks me for helping the reader with their life struggles through poignant moments in my books. Those are the days I live for, I write for, I dream for.
Today was not one of those days.
Today was a lonely day. A day where I knew if I did not work to reach out to someone, no one would reach out to me. I know how sad that sounds, but the life of a writer can be very lonely.
Perhaps that is why we write. We are grown children perpetually making up make-believe friends to fill the void. If I’m honest, it is not a bad life. At least those friends will always be there for you. And should you have a difference of opinion they will always come back to work it out. Plus, if you don’t like the ending you can just rewrite it.
But not in real life. It’s far more messy, where people give up, walk away, come for a moment but rarely stay for a lifetime.
So who do we have, but ourselves? That is why I am on a journey to be my own best friend. I want to love me enough that when time and space have taken all I hold dear, I’ll be happy keeping company with me. Because Me will be all I am left with, and I need to love her the way she deserves.
Author Teah Kemp Weight 
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