Writing is a drug. A habit. An addictive force.

And your words keep pulling me back here.

But if I begin again, I’m afraid writing will take over. Invade my mind. Take over my soul.

I threw away all my notebooks, and destroyed all my stories. But this crazy addiction stays in the back of my head, and I can’t starve it to death. I can’t run from it.

But I’m still staring at the edge of the pool, wondering….. If I jump in again, will I drown a third time?