You know, it seems more and more I hear this voice in my head asking me the same questions. Why do you write? Its just a bunch of words on paper, whats the point? What are you doing? This isn't something you can show off like dance or singing or playing guitar. Why are you still writing Kayelin?

Ya, I figure I might as well give this voice a name, Mr. Turd. Cuz thats what he is. He's a turd. Always taunting me and telling me what it possibly hopeless. He's relentless and tireless. He never shuts up and I always hear him chatting away at me when I'm not writing. I'm starting to think he's that itch I can't get rid of. You know, the one on my back?

But then pen and paper meet, creating a relationship that I never want to break. To move their companionship along, I tilt my hand and with the motion of muscles, hand, and grip, the pen glides across the innocence of that white parchment.

My mind begins to pace, it begins to become the architect to a world that can only be conveyed with the rapid, slow, pausing motion of hand and pen. This world is not one I want to keep to myself. After years of living in this created fantasy paralleled to the reality of Elementary, I learned that I needed to show others just what a wonderful place they were missing. Anything can exist if I simply write the word of its creation. It starts off dark, like the ink in my pen, and slowly as I write a lovely contrast of black and white appears.

Why do I write, Mr. Turd? Because I enjoy feeling the smooth glide of pen across paper, I enjoy knowing that my words will one day take another on an adventure they never would have know of, I enjoy learning that by reading those words, you place yourself in another's form and you begin to explore possibilities you never thought of before.

I will never listen to Mr. Turd.