Space

I've been a writer since as far back as I can remember. No matter how many different teachers, friends, therapists, mentors, and even strangers I have encountered throughout the various transitions of this life, the comments about my writing persist. A second-grade teacher was the first one to tell me that I was a storyteller. I still have that piece of prose. I used powerful and flowery illustrative language even at 8-years-old.

I don't know if I am really a writer, a storyteller, or just a careful word-chooser.

I do know one thing for sure. In the past year, I've realized that I am an artist. My art takes various mediums and forms depending on the day, the weather, the season, or my mood. I don't think of being an artist as a hobby, occupation, or even a lifestyle. My art is life. I just see things differently. I hear different words, and I look for the things that others miss. Life is the artist, and I am just its mirror...I capture moments and pieces in tiny freeze-frames that people call "art." I can't take credit for that.