My love of writing did not begin with a love of writing. It started with pain and suffering, my pain and suffering. 

​

I was never popular. In fact, I was the girl in the corner that everyone overlooked and ignored. I was shy, scared, and afraid of being alone. I smiled through my tears, laughed through my humiliation, and acted strong while I died slowly on the inside. 

​

I was angry. With the world and the people in it, but mostly with myself. I wrote things like "KILL ME NOW!" "Why am I here?" and "I am so alone." I scribbled with fury about how unfair life was and how I was hurting, but I never said a word to anybody. 

​

It got to where I could only remember the bad things. I tried to hurt myself because it felt good to bleed, but it didn't make it any better. There was this static in my head, screaming at me to let it out, and I was so afraid of it. Fearful of what I might do if I let it loose. 

​

I knew things had to change, so I started small. I began writing one good thing a day. One memory, one moment, that made me smile, laugh, or feel good. It didn't take all the pain away or stop the screaming, but it gave me a reason to live. 

​

I thought I could turn things around with that and started writing stories. Good stories, happy ending stories, all the while, my mind was telling me other stories. I had random flashes of cutting people to pieces when they annoyed me. I imagined beating people I loved with baseball bats when they just failed to see me or made me feel so small. 

​

I was so tormented; I just wanted to be a good person. What kind of person thinks those things about people, let alone people they love? What kind of monster was I?

​

I struggled to write stories about love or how the good always wins until one day, when I wrote something different. I wrote the story in my head. The quick flashes of horrible moments in people's lives, and I liked it. 

​

The truth is the more I wrote out the wickedness in my mind, the better I felt. So, I wrote more and more and kept finding ways for people to die in short flashes of fiction. 

​

Everyone needs a way to express themselves, a place to release the toxins dumped on them by life. Some way to vent and let off steam before you're driven too far. That is what writing is to me. 

​

It is my canvas, my expression, and my purpose.

​

I enjoy being a part of the small moments of my character's lives because seeing their lives in pieces gives me a clearer view of my world. Writing makes me a better, kinder, gentler person, so I will always love being a writer.