There was a time in my life, years ago, when I felt very alone and uncomfortable in my own skin. The thought of being alone and that no one would love me is one I know well, even to this day.

I considered it. I did, and I cried because I thought if I wanted to end things that way, then I was a failure. That I wasn’t worthy.

But I didn’t do it. Around the same time I discovered my need for writing, I found an outlet to offload those hard feelings. So, even though I didn’t find someone to talk to about everything, I did find a channel to let it all out.

Maybe someday I will find the arms to confide in.