Seven years of pursuing a professional writing career, I found myself questioning the reasons for my decision. Rejections, low self-esteem, and underdeveloped confidence of self made me wonder if I had made the right choice. Although, I loved writing beyond simple explanation, my mind (logic) was chipping away at my spirit (purpose). So, I realized I had to look to my inner voice for answers to the perplexing questions that were expeditiously breaking me down.

When I was nine years old, I was a writer. Obviously, I didn't realize this until many years later, yet I often wondered why I had this uncontrollable desire to express myself through the written word. My mother bought me a five-year diary with pink and white flowers on the outside for Christmas. Back then, I would've been more satisfied to receive another toy than some writing supplies, but I took to the diary like a fish to water.

On a daily basis, I would sit on the hood of my stepfather's car observing life and nature. I would write continuously about what I had seen taking place around me. Conversations, clouds, lightning bugs, kids riding their bikes, trees swaying to the rhythms of a Summer breeze were all documented in that small five-year diary.

Nevertheless, I was taken in by the supreme, liberating natural high feeling I received from the written word. It was escapism, freedom, love, creative expression, and pure spirit. Pretty soon, I graduated from five-year diaries to composition and loose-leaf notebooks. Sometimes I would carry a small memo notepad in my pants pocket to school, just in case I felt the need to express myself.

Throughout my teenage years, I wrote from time to time when life became unbearable. But it wasn't until I turned twenty years old that I realized I was performing an act of my spirit that went far beyond anything I could imagine.

Although, I loved writing more than life itself, because to me writing was life, I found myself seven years later question- ing a path that was previously paved for me.

My journey in the writing world is a mixture of joy, confusion, revelation, mystery, and spirituality. Writing is still my primary outlet. My altar to confess my innermost thoughts, mistakes, problems, solutions, and emotions. Yet, I realize I'm entering a realm of supreme knowledge, wisdom, and under- standing that will take decades to unfold and show to the world. I embraced my calling with open arms. Although, I know this path is going to be long and difficult, I accept this challenge. And now...there's no need to question the purpose. I'm living it everyday with each breath, each gesture, and each thought I can muster. The journey has begun.