My Mother is Snoring Next to Me

Dear you,

I'd like to write more. Deep down I feel I am a shitty writer. Some days I think my ego is so big because it thinks that I should write. In 4th grade Coach Tobey told me he would recognize me in writing anywhere. In 5th grade my English teacher told me I had a strong voice. In 6th grade I copied grammar assignments from an Indian girl named Zara. As I've gotten older my love of writing has never diminished but I fear my skill never developed as it should have. Should have. Why should it have? After all is what I have to say so important as to say it so loudly, in writing there is nothing as honest as letters tied together to form words to emphasize feeling, and meaning if you are lucky. I hope to convey what I need to here. Not what I need to but what God puts into my mind and creates little neural impulses for me to write. I love you for that, and I love me for letting it happen.

So often we go against things that are good for us. I am afraid to be human is to take the most difficult winded route possible. This feels good to write even though I will not edit it. I'd just like to purge it out.

If you read this far thank you. I hope to keep you posted. Perhaps I won't and you may never hear from me again dear reader. Would you be ok with that?

I have more questions to ask you reader, do you ever wonder if you have lost that spark? That impetus that makes you want to thread beautiful words together? That freedom to say whatever the heart desires with no fear of judgement or castigation? I'd love to write like I was 12 again. Maybe this can be the beginning.

Always yours,
Z