Waking up with so many things on my mind is truly overwhelming. After saying a short prayer, I step out of bed, pick up my pen, and start to write. I choose not to type on a computer because I want my hands and mind to work together as a team, completely free from the internet or machines.
At first, the words do not fit quite right. There is a smudge on the paper and a line goes wrong, so my eraser becomes my helper. I try to write another line, but my thoughts will not cooperate. Once again, the eraser becomes my hope.
In this quiet moment, I realize that writing is a deeply personal journey. Every person has their own unique signature when they write a voice that belongs to them alone. I do not write to impress other people or to make them like me. Instead, I write to express my true feelings and thoughts. Writing is my ultimate outlet.
I know my writing is not flawless, but I believe it is perfectly imperfect. I am a human, not a machine. My lines might have cracks, and my words or spelling might bend, but each little flaw is a helper and a friend. I stumble, I learn, I try, and I test. My messy, true self is always my best.
So look at my pages, both the dark and the bright. I am only human, doing things my own way, and beautifully imperfectly right.