Being a writer often sounds very artistic,vintage and cool. I, being one of them have many thoughts crossing my mind except one that got stuck. Did I really want to be a writer? Or did life and it's experiences make me one? Is this my purpose? As a kid, I often wondered who created the lovely pieces that I read until I realised I loved writing over reading. Sounds happening right? But on the either hand I have come across people who write about their trauma in their journals. Is it really venting out? Or rather getting stuck with those same thoughts? Debatable. All I wanted was to express not even vent out. Am I doing it well?...only my readers know....