With just one word at a time.

I'm afraid to write.

I used to love the freedom of writing. Sadly, this is why I moved across this great country.

I wanted to make my writing a career, a tool I could use to change the world. Yes, at this time I was an optimistic teenager who thought she knew EVERYTHING, she had the world by the tail.

With moving to Toronto I figured as soon as I learned the tricks of the trade, journalism would be my new passion. Tragically, this was not to be.

I've been working towards my degree in journalism for the past three years now. So far, all I've truly learned is to fear what I have to write. Not because I'm blunt or mildly offensive, no, quite the contrary. Many of my instructors have labeled me whirly and unfocused.

It's been only recently that I've come to voluntarily move myself towards a keyboard.

I came to the decision quite recently that these 'instructors' love themselves and their work far too much. So what if I'm whirly - deal with it!

I suppose I'm just tired of paying an institution thousands of dollars each year for them to tell me, 'We're sorry you suck."

There's only two more weeks left to this semester. I'm grinding away at the remainder of my assignments. It's an uphill battle, but I'm almost there.

My bones are weary. This isn't my flamboyantly dramatic side coming out to play either - I'm just dog-tired.

I’m ready and willing for something new to challenge myself with.