I think I have discovered more about myself than I ever planned to in such a short amount of time. I love to see a somewhat congruent shape form from the mass of uncertainty-filled clay that is my heart and mind.
I love to write. To write what is in my heart, to see it play out on the page, simple yet personally meaningful. I will remember so much because of this. I don’t think I do it for anyone else but me, but I would still want people to read these little experiences, thoughts, because what if it helps them get through the same situations that it has helped me with, the same doubts, fears. That alone would make me happy.
I find I often write about the same thing over and over. Love, caring for people, simple happiness, uncertainty, the desire to become something more, but they are the things that rest most on my mind. Embedded somehow in the subconscious, brought out by words and actions.
And to my perpetual letter-writing friend, you have made me better because you have shown me your heart, my heart, and what I could become.
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