I began writing because my mind was racing. Not only was it racing, but each thought that passed through my mind was of extreme significance to the meaning of my life. I was writing frantically, trying to keep up with my thoughts. All my words were a part of a bigger puzzle and eventually, something tremendous would happen, the answer to my longings would materialize. I wrote because nobody cared or understood me. I would try to talk to people, but the words would fly right over their head. All they noticed was that I was crazy. Dad called it "verbal diarrhea." The shrinks called it "grandiose delusions." If I was to save the would with my truths, I had to write down everything. I was alone in this battle. My words were my only friend.

Back To Essay