Writing ruined my life. It broke my bones, bled me dry and turned my body to ashes. When I first realized this, I wanted to deny it. Something good was coming from my fingertips but my life was falling down around me- how can that be? After some time though, my ashes dug deep into the earth and found diamonds, rubies and sapphires to make new bones with. Every inch of the earth came weaving its way to make a new body, infused with one of the greatest mysteries. Now I know what happened, and I understand. To be honest, if you’re thinking of becoming a writer and nothing drastic has changed around you, I would be concerned. The inner reality shapes the outer reality, so when you get involved with writing, which has more to do with the inside, than the outside, you can expect some major changes. For example, writing is a true mirror. When I started writing, as someone who buries their feelings, my truth began to become unearthed. Relationships, friendships, jobs, everything I ever knew was put into question because now I found a way to tell my truth, and my truth was juxtapose to how I was living my life and what I was letting in. You would be surprised as to what your subconscious picks up on. So if you are like me, and crave truth and beauty, and don’t mind suffering a little in the name of love, I urge you to pick up a pen and write, you won’t be the same when the pen is put down.