In my embryonic state, I hid behind cozy walls of constriction, content with swimming in a womb of limitation. Then those once comforting walls contracted and tightened. A space once filled with infinite possibility became unbearable, and I realized that my arrival was long overdue.
That’s when I picked up the pen.
I was born breathless and shivering in my newfound nakedness of soul as my sudden emergence gave way to a renewed purpose. Past dissatisfaction became an awakened spirit removed from fear, creating a place of resolve, birthing me into a world previously unknown, liberating me from the chains of mediocrity, giving me meaning, giving me reason, giving me life.
I was born the instant that I picked up a pen, and all of my pent-up emotions leaped from my chest and spilled out onto the pages of my journal, slowly unfolding layers of myself as feelings disguised as words flowed like uncontrollable tears, quickly drenching each page, stripping me of all my inhibitions, unmasking the lifeless impostor who had been sharing my flesh, and leaving me invigorated, afraid, and exposed.