It defines you, explains you, molds you into lines that grab at one, making them read the simple and magical words placed anywhere that translate…. Me. Writing has always been a part of me, as important to me as the oxygen I breathe, as the nectar to the bee, as a little child's laugh as she holds her face up to be kissed by the soft rays of the sun. It's become as important to me as the commotion caused by my family at the dinner table and sneaked its way to sit forever in my heart… it was now a part of me. It was me… it will always be me…

They think shy people don't say much, but oh they were so very wrong… they have much to say, the only problem is that no one wants to listen. Feeling the smoothness of the pen held lovingly between my fingers made me feel secure, I could stop time and get lost and I stared off into space, trying to piece together my words as I stroked its surface. Then a little smile played over my lips as I spilled out my heart, soul, and everything that was me… be it on a piece of paper, a computer, a tissue paper in a café, lipstick on a mirror… anything I could find that would relieve me of this urge to share myself with the surface I expressed myself upon.

Sara D'amore