Once upon a time there was a girl, nix that, a young woman, trying to find her place in life. She looked to melodies and found beauty and comfort but never quite a sense of peace. She looked to cultures, learning to speak and interact as one of the locals, but she never quite felt at ease. She looked to the “dream”, trying to fit into the life so many others had sought before her and found nothing but despair.
She searched and searched, looking high and low, never keeping her balance for long. Then one day, she remembered that she used to know how to write. She dusted the cobwebs and sharpened her ax. Poems and songs, fiction and fact…the words began to flow. As the ink dried and ideas emerged, she viewed life from a different perspective.
A comma goes here, no “it’s” not possessive, a lot is two words, and definitely only has one correct spelling: her eyes had new vision. Writing became an art, and she became an artist.
As she fell more in love with the paper and pen, she began to have questions. “Do people even read anymore?” she thought, “Would my words even be welcomed?” They were difficult questions with no clear answer. Difficult questions that needed a concrete response. “Is there room in the world anymore for loving what you do and doing what you love?” she mulled.
Only one way to find out.
Love and peace,
Amelia
P.S. Never pay more than $5 for sunglasses. :-)
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