The Importance Of Writing.

It’s an important job, to know. To feel, and empathize, so I can write down accurate accounts of their lives, before these things got the better of them.

There is only one story I have never written down, and that is my own. There is no account of what happened to me.

That is likely how it was always supposed to be.

I know an outline. I know the barest notes that were taken down, before this became all I am.

He took all else from me.

Until I was nothing but a gift, and that gift is a curse.

A curse I use, so that He may know. How much would He know without me, I wonder?