Writing is home for me. But right now I feel far from home. Things are busy, damn busy and although it’s the fashion these days to have loads going on, it’s relentless right now. I just can’t catch a free moment, and I know if one want’s to write, one will write, but time is something I don’t have and inside it’s partially killing me not to be sat at the keyboard creating.

I’m an adult now, perhaps that’s the problem because I have responsibilities and stuff, that’s something I have to learn to live with whilst also feeding the need to write. 2019 is proving to be one of those important season finale type of deals with loads of plot arcs wrapping up and people rushing to resolve their stories whilst I’m jumping from one turning carousel to another. Many of the things I’m wrapped up in this year are more significant to others while I play the passenger and it’s tiring.

But the most important thing above all for me is that I am not alone and I haven’t been for seven years to the day. Today I celebrate walking my significant other home on a rainy late April night and asking her to be my girlfriend, it sounds like some next level sitcom romance stuff, and back then it was, and still is. I can only function while being happy, all of this circles around the concept of having someone and I do. Somebody said once that all you need is love, and beneath the shroud of busy and hectic life I have right now is just that. Don’t ever understimate the power of having someone and that makes me feel at home more than anything.