I write to untangle the intangibles.

I write to change minds. Especially mine.

I write to notice the little things.

To throw my heart in the ocean, and watch as it floats by.

My bookshelf bursts with notebooks and books and letters.

Some written in crayon. From crisis centers way back when. Because communication was my rafter. My safe place to be open, vulnerable and messy.

I remember how it felt when my carpal tunnel got so bad, I couldn’t even hold a crayon.

Lonely, I felt. I had to cast my heart out somehow. Its drum beat so loud, and I knew:

Whatever it takes. Now is my rally cry.

I will write to remember.

I will write to make you stop. Think. And feel.

I will write because I’m human.

I will write to fail, get up, fail harder.

And never. Ever. Give. Up.