Seriously, it is. I’m sitting here working on a project, surrounded by stacks of books, DVD’s, and empty boxes. (Don’t ask. It’s a long story.) There’s no sound around me, aside from my breathing and the desktop’s inner rumblings. Other than that, it’s quiet. Can’t even hear my cat or dog.

I stopped typing mid-project and just sat here musing about the fact that I work alone. My significant other is asleep in the bedroom. The dog and cat are curled up on their beds passed out. No one else is awake right now, but me.

Ironically, I often spend my time alone when writing. I’ve online friends that share my passion, but they are always in their parts of the world. My family–well, I’m the odd one out when it comes to writing. I know that some of my cousins and other family members dabble in writing poetry/an occasional short story, but for them it’s mostly a hobby. For me, this is what I want to do for the rest of my life.

I spend most of my time alone with the voices in my head. (Most people would say I’m crazy because of this, but I’m not, I assure you.) I build worlds, create awesome characters, and just live within the craziness I write about.

People often ask me if I get bored sitting alone in my office while writing. The truth is, I don’t. I love what I do. It’s awesome to see something come alive and together out of nothing. To see my words across the page is honestly a feeling I can’t explain. While this may be a solitary life, I wouldn’t have things any other way. I enjoy writing. It’s a part of who I am and always will be.

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