I love writing.

Now, just about any author can say that.

But, really. I do love writing.

I've been depressed ever since I can remember. I know what it feels like to think you're worthless. I felt as if I were hanging by a string that was breaking, one strand at a time. My world was small. I felt suffocated.

I'm not saying that I don't STILL feel this. I do. But, I discovered the pencil and paper, and my own mind.

Each day, one after another, I discovered a little more about myself. Whether it be my favorite color is red or that I really do love to sing and act, it was something new each time. Our minds are places where anything we crave can become a lucid reality. It can. This is true in real life, but, sometimes our effort isn't enough.

That may be depressing to hear, but it's true.

Yet, when I pick up the pencil and let my mind and hand do all the work, I find myself gradually drifting off into my own little world.

And I hope to share this feeling with You.