All good books are alike in that they are truer than if they had really happened and after you are finished reading one you will feel that all that happened to you and afterwards it all belongs to you: the good and the bad, the ecstasy, the remorse and sorrow, the people and the places and how the weather was. If you can get so that you can give that to people, then you are a writer.
I know that you didn’t want to go out today and I know that it feels like a small flock of sparrows are using your stomach for a bird bath.
I know you want to run away and cry and I know you just want to be alone.
I know that in the hot summer air, with what feels like a rhinoceros sitting on your windpipe, sometimes it gets hard to breathe.
I know it’s hard to answer the incessant question of “Are you alright?” When all you want is forty eight seconds of silence in your head.
I know that every part of you feels exposed to peoples’ judging eyes.
But I also know that every time you’ve wanted to quit, you haven’t.
And that you’re chest will continue to ride and fall so long as you keep breathing.
You’ve climbed mountains taller and braved deeper oceans. This will not stop you now.
You can do this.
Come on, breath in.