I loved to write what was in my mind, because only in my mind was I free and only on these pages could I express that freedom. Now I write because I put pressure on myself, because I am trying to show the world that Benita has accomplished something in her life by writing a book. Maybe I’m not meant to be a writer – I after all can’t spell to save my life. I feel like I’m going to explode. Like my mind is so full of doubt and worry and disappointment and confusion and hope and dread and, and, and …

It’s time to go back to the drawing board.

I guess I’m here looking for some inspiration, some motivation, and by doing so, I guess I’m showing that I still dream …