Sometimes I’m not only inspired to write, but I’m dangerously consumed by it. It becomes an addiction that I can’t pull away from. Rather than it having a grounding effect, it becomes an escapist’s drug for me. Writing comes a lot more easily for me than others. I almost rarely have writer’s block. But when I do, I’m completely lost. I mean truly lost, not the way non-writers panic as they see the clock ticking down as their deadline approaches. I relate and identify as a writer. It encompasses who I am. When I lose that side of me, I lose myself. I’m terrified. I want to do this as a way to reveal the depths of my heart and soul. Part of discovering who you are is entering the dark corners of your soul that makes your blood run cold. So as much as I enjoy how natural it is for me to do what I love so much, in a twisted way I look forward to the darkness, the abyss of my soul…When I get there, what element will I find? Fire that burns away at my ambitions, dreams, and confidence, water that flushes away everything I find comfort in until all that’s left is the remains of what was once mine, something deeper and older than my soul like the earth full of secrets that’ll reveal to me what’s truly worth fearing, or provide me with air so toxic that it can kill me? There’s something painstakingly enlivening about near death experiences and trauma that makes us live a little more. Or will I be pleasantly surprised and discover that my greatest fear is actually the most liberating of all? Will the fire will burn away my fears, the water drown what’s always held me back, the earth reveal something extraordinary, and the air giving me breath that truly allows me to breathe? Who knows? Only time will tell.