I sit and write for hours as if every word I say will touch the sky and make the gods rest. I am obsessed with the product of my thoughts and their ability to change my day. That is what makes it okay; me and all the words I could write. For every night I write it feels so right. I could chase my feelings and settle them. I could understand pain and dissect it away. I was a simple girl who was in love with the world. In love with ideas and opportunities. Infatuated with ideas of love and the more I could dream, the more I could create. I wished for all this. I wished for love. My words would dance at the thought of no regret, I could express everything I felt and indulge in this sweet release. I do not hide, no longer stay quiet. I am yelling, crying, smiling but most of all I am living. I am alive in the present. The present moment that taught me that the world is suppose to be a mess. Our lives are suppose to digress. This life is meant to be lived on edges and borders. We are meant to love with every membrane in our bodies. That is why I wrote, to feel the words boiling on my skin. I write because it keeps me alive.