Realization is the source of inspiration.

Today I realized I was born with a gift.

You know the way everyone naturally stands when they don't care if the rain is soaking their clothes or ruining their watch? When your palms face the sky and your arms are shrugging without the shrug? I stood there as the hair I primped that morning flattened and hung heavily in front of my face. Mascara stained my cheeks and droplets gathered on my eyelashes, adding moisture to the source of a few of my opinions.

That's when I realized that my ability to write isn't something you come by every day, even as unbelievable as every year. I run track, but am I number one? I play soccer, but is my picture in the newspaper? No. But I write, and I'm sure that will take me places.

Then I, dripping wet, walked through my front door, soiling the halls with a pure mess.


I wrote this down in my notebook and ruined the entire thing.