Writing. Breathing. To me they are one in the same. My mind is a Ferris wheel that never stops rotating. It’s always thinking of details and countless scenarios that exist only within my cerebellum. It’s the answer to all of my emotions. Whenever I’m happy, my mind urges me to write. Whenever I’m sad, my body may shake. My mind still urges me to write. Whenever I’m scared, my mind keeps rotating. It says, “I know that you’re not okay. Write.” And I do.
Everyone says I’m creative. They think I write, because I am creative. That is not the case. I write, because writing is home. The Ferris wheel in my mind is where my characters exist. All I have to do is ask them who they are. They tell me their name, and all the history that inhabits their bones. The words begin to fill up the page as their DNA splatters all over it.