Writing has become my personal psychologist. Every time I feel a little lost, I put my thoughts on paper and then voilà: my mind clears and my garbage despairs.
Today, I decided to try something different and pen a poem:
How could I
How could I feel misplaced,
in a town that I identify so well?
How could I feel apart,
with a family so tight together?
How could I feel sad,
when so much hope is in my heart?
After writting, I always feel accomplished!
Who I am today as a person is largely due to my failures!