You don’t know me

I have been MIA for that last couple days. I have had a sick girl. She had Hand foot and mouth disease that she caught from her cousin last weekend. She has been miserable so there had been a lot of cuddles for mommy. 

I also have had insomnia the past few night and it has me thing of ultimate goal out of life.

I could from a small town where if you don’t end up working at the hospital or in the coal mines there isn’t much out there. I have all my life pondered on what I could do to be successful and live here at the same time. I don’t want to leave because my parents are aging and I need to be here to help them in any way possible. There’s one thing in my life I had always said that I wanted to do. Only two people in this entire world besides me knows this secret. Well until now I guess. I am a bookworm. I love reading. I could get through the thickest books in no time. 

My favorites include Gone with The Wind, The Help, and any thing Nichols Sparks (what can I say, I am a hopeless romantic). There have been times were I would read a book and think “I can totally write something better” Thats it’s, my secret is I aspire to be a writer! 

I want to write something and have people read it and when they close the cover they are so emotionally attached to the characters and the story that they just sit there in silence thinking about what just happen. I want to make people feel what I feel when I finish a good book. Sometimes it is warm and fuzzy and happiness and then of course there are times I can’t see because I am sobbing so hard. 

A few nights ago this idea hit me like a ton of bricks. It was past 3am and I had to be up at 6 to get ready for work, but it didn’t matter. I sat there typing feverishly onto my cellphone. These words and character poured out from my mind. Where they came from, I have no idea. But I knew I have to get in down. 

This has happen to me several times. I have atleast ten documents on my laptop. Unfinished of course, but they are there. These ideas of stories of people (fictional people of course) that it’s seems like the world needs to know their stories. 

There is one about an abusive relationship.  There’s one that would be classified as YA. The one from the other night is still developing in my mind. 

I want to write and I want to be published and I want to show up and my high school reunion and have people be in total shock when I tell them what I do for a living. 

I want to do it. I’m confident that my stories will be solid enough, if I can finish them that is. 

Now you know me. My deepest goal in life has been laid out.

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