Dreams

Silver light skies pin-pricked with the lights of heaven above the stars come out to stay. The thud of my heart rings true in my ears reminding me I in fact alive. I can feel the night, the electrifying feel of the night tickling my fingertips. My every sense has been heightened and I feel a difference within myself. Fingers dancing across the key board clack bringing a world that thrives within a head into tangible form. The rush of the writer begins, the thrill of coaxing a story from the head onto page begins. It's here, in real words, the writers biggest accomplishment and agony. It's before an audience as they devour the words that were so painstakingly written. 

Uncertainty is always in the path, for a naive girl who hasn't yet experienced the world. The topics she writes about though have their own world systems. She can only hope she can get that world of hers out on that paper for everyone to see. She's sensitive to the critiques they have to offer, they tred recklessly on her words stomping down thoughts and ideas that have become special to her. Her imagination is leaked for the world to see, the people she knows and loves are finally known, her story so ardently written is off to slaughter. 

Yet, this is her biggest dream/desire, to be heard and to be appreciated for what she has to offer to the world through thought. To be an independent and noticed for her thoughts, to be loved based on the mind. It's more than she can ask for. More than a young woman to ask for. She wants it so badly it's in every waking thought, each word scribbled down on scrap contributes to a her world to make it a whole. Its all and everything she could ask for.

She's a writer daring to be heard.