My greatest fear is that I will continue to be inadequate for my entire life. I will never produce something that touches someone. I keep praying that one day that letter I give someone, or that poem I write someone will change their life. Or just leave them in tears. I don�t care if they never speak to me again, so long as I make some impact in that life. I want to be quoted. I want to inspire. I want to use the English language in ways no one else does. I have nothing. Absolutely nothing. I think so far into the future. I think even now that 10 years down the road I will find this typed piece of computer paper, with scribbles and notes all over, neatly placed somewhere. And I will see it and I will write about it in the book I will most surely be writing.

I wan�t to be a freelance writer. That�s what I want to do. I want that to be my job. I want to break pencil tips, and cry, and complain, and perhaps earn money trying to fulfill my goal of being a writer. I want to work out of my home. Writing is the only thing that has ever brought me happiness. I�ve been denying it for as long as I�ve enjoyed it. People tell me that I�m good at it and that I should embrace it and persue it, but I tell myself it�s not a real profession. I could never make it. But then why would I be here with this passion for writing? I can�t say that this feels right, or that I know I have an exceptional gift for it. It�s just the only thing I�ve enjoyed doing and that has to tell me something. I overlook it constantly, and push it to the side. Who am I to deny the one thing I know I would be ok devoting my life to.

I want to write something that influences everyone. It�s attainable and achieveable. It�s a goal. It�s a purpose. It�s me. I get so mad when I re-read things, because I know someone else reading it wont understand my emotion. I want to get that right. I want someone to be right there with me just because of the way I wrote a sentence. I don�t want someone to look up from whatever I write and says �it�s good. You�re good at this.� I want them to be speechless. I want them to give me a knowing smile as if to say �you got it right this time.�

I kept telling myself that there is no possible way I could be a writer because so many other people are better at it. There are people much better at English then me, who are better at every other subject then me. Things just click with them. I get jealous and upset and annoyed that I don�t write that way.