I wish I were a good writer. I want the words on the paper to grasp the essence of the feelings running rampant in my head. I long to wrap my fingers around a newspaper or book or magazine and read words that are mine. But I'm a toddler. I have to constantly tell myself, "use your words!" in an attempt to snap myself into fluid articulation. Somehow, my words invariably get lost on their way through my labyrinthian folds of brain cells, and they never make it to my fingers. Which is why I can labor over a piece of paper unto crazed frustration and come up with nothing more than endless scribbles of shallow nothings. Because my words need a GPS.