We use cookies
When you visit our website, if you give your consent, we will use cookies to allow us to collect data for aggregated statistics to improve our service and remember your choice for future visits. Cookie Policy & Privacy Policy
Dear Reader, we use the permissions associated with cookies to keep our website running smoothly and to provide you with personalized content that better meets your needs and ensure the best reading experience. At any time, you can change your permissions for the cookie settings below.
If you would like to learn more about our Cookie, you can click on Privacy Policy.
Your cookies settings
Strictly cookie settingsAlways Active
Let the Game Begin
When I first thought of writing this journal, I was dripping with enthusiasm so much that every cell of my body felt alive. I felt alive. I was excited and desperate. Writing being a soul-soothing passion—I couldn’t wait to start the journal already, but there was so much lacking and unfortunately, I had felt it. “I couldn’t just be writing ‘anything’ ordinary. It’s going to be my finest of the work, a real treasure that must mesmerise the reader. It must be something special, something important and revolutionarily life-changing.” I had told myself. And this was the very shitty self-talk that had changed everything. This craving to create a masterpiece snatched even the ordinary precious pieces out of my palms. I regret some of my absurdities and I’ll tell you, it still annoys the
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD
