To write is to live. It is the very blood that flows though my veins. Without it there would be an empty void, unfulfilled by any source. Where there was desperation, writing became my salvation. Where there were no words that could be spoken, writing became my voice. Where there was only dark, it became my only light. Afraid to speak. Too shy, too timid. The thoughts were there, but the overwhelming fear kept them locked deep within. Without my ability to write, they would have been trapped within the recesses of my mind, longing to be free, yet trapped for my eternity.
What was I afraid of? Afraid that I would sound stupid, afraid of being laughed at, afraid of being wrong, or afraid of what people would think? One? All? No matter what the root might have been, the solution became writing. In writing I was afraid of nothing. I became fearless. I became what I wanted to be, if only on paper. I could speak those things cluttered and clutching in my mind to be free. My writing became my second dream world, my second escape from the world I had grown to loathe, that world where I had felt like I didn't belong, that world where I felt I had no place, that world I so desperately wanted to escape. When I wrote, I did.
The root began back then, in my time of being painfully shy. The seed was planted in my head. Well, perhaps it wasn't planted then but was always there, instilled in me at birth. That power to create visions in words on paper has always been a powerful entity to me. Words are powerful creatures. They can mean so much yet so little at the same time. Words are given the power we grant them. They can be used to harm, but they can also be used to enlighten and transport the mind to endless adventures. To me, writing was creating worlds in which to dwell for a brief moment in time. At one point I wrote to escape the world I so longed to be far from, but now it's something that allows me to craft vast universes to revel and partake in.
In the roads of our individual lives, I believe we have a somewhat destined path. It is not laid out like a yellow brick road, so clear to the eye. There isn't just one way to get where you are meant to be. The road comes with its twists and turns, with detours and shortcuts. Life has its way of placing the signs along the way. It is up to us to pay attention and see them for what they are. Eventually, if you are open to it, you find your way along your road. You find your passion. You find what is in your soul to do. You fulfill your own personal destiny. It is most often the thing that you have done all your life, that thing that is in your nature to do. For me, my passion is writing. "I write, therefore I am" -- that's how I feel, without sounding too over dramatic. Being a writer is embedded in my very core. To me, being a writer is everything.
How will Donald Trump’s first 100 days impact YOU? Subscribe, choose the community that you most identify with or want to learn more about and we’ll send you the news that matters most once a week throughout Trump’s first 100 days in office. Learn more