For as long as I can remember I've wanted to write. I wrote the typical angst-filled poems in junior high school, a couple which at least my mom thought were good. :)
My sophomore year in high school my oldest brother came to teach at my high school. He was a real writer, a poet in fact. Suffering from no more than the average amount of high-school girl insecurities this was enough to send me over the edge, I couldn't write or at least I couldn't write and show Mark. His opinion mattered the most., and I was too insecure, too afraid of letting him down. I let that insecurity get the best of me, and I just gave it up.
It's been (gulp) almost 20 years since high school and that same brother has since passed away. The last 5-6 years of his life, he was my best friend. I am still having trouble imagining my life without him. In the last few months I've been re-consumed with the desire to write. It's nearly out of control.,not knowing where to start, I started blogging on a dreaded myspace account. I've been amazed by my response to the exercise of putting thoughts, no matter how random, onto "paper". So I'm moving up or on to this as a permanent blog., I like the idea of being a little more anonymous, as well as being able to share it with whomever I choose.
I don't really know if this will lead me down the road to writing I've been imaging doing for so many years, but one never knows.