Remember those late nights in school—frantically cramming for an exam, highlighter in hand, coffee by your side, hoping to absorb just enough to pass? That rush of urgency, that pressure to finish, that drive to get it all in before the clock runs out…
That’s what my writing feels like these days.
But this isn’t about grades. It’s about legacy.
At 82, I feel the clock more keenly than ever. Each morning I wake up from dreams with words pressing on my heart—unfinished thoughts, unspoken truths, and stories that still need telling. There’s no time for idle polishing or procrastination. Just a quiet urgency to finish what I came here to share.
I write at a fever pitch—not out of fear, but because somewhere, someone is waiting for these words.
They may not know it yet. But something in what I write may help them take the next step, find their peace, or feel a little less alone.
And so, I write. Not because my soul depends on it—but because I believe theirs might.
Just like those late-night study sessions, the focus sharpens in the final stretch. What once felt optional now feels essential. The noise falls away. Only the message remains.
So if you feel time catching up, don’t wait. Share your voice. Tell your story. Finish what matters most.
You never know who’s waiting for your words.
