I know what it’s like to be someone else.
You see, I’m mentally ill, as they say. Fortunately for me, my illness is quite treatable. So treatable, in fact, I know what it’s like to be a different person.
It all started about a year ago. I was giving a talk in church about focusing on what’s important. I suck at that because I have this insatiable habit of collecting hobbies. I have, at one time or another, obsessed over ballroom dancing, woodworking, photography, web design, cabin building, blacksmithing, primitive bow making, permaculture design, and, of course, novel writing. (This is a very condensed list of hobbies, mind you).