Dear Unsealers,

It was done
Finished
Completed
Yet it sat there
Neatly
Patient
Waiting
Moving quietly between devices
Being saved and stored
Saved and stored
Saved and stored
But never read
Never inspiring anyone
Never fulfilling its intended purpose
“Why would you want to be a writer”
The words echoed in my head from when I was small
Barely even double-digits
“They just go off to be lonely, in a hotel room, and kill themselves”
Something along those lines
Shattering my dreams
Forbidding my written thoughts
Silencing my creativity
Making me dread the gift I was given
It was done
My first book
For years
Being so embarrassed that I wrote it
Not even wanting to write but feeling the words begging and pleading to be released
Always pouring out of me
But always making my emotions more manageable
Doubting myself over and over again
Feeling unworthy to call my creations poems
But one day it all changed
Working day and night at a job that didn’t serve me
Sick of the rude, racist, and belittling customers I had to bite my tongue to
My book called from the darkness
Publish me
Let me live
Breathe life into me and watch me breathe it right back into you
And I did
January 12th, 2024
The date my first book was published
And I started to feel like myself again
The depression slithering away like the snake that it is
The thoughts of not being good enough
Disappearing like a rabbit in a magician’s hat
It didn’t matter if anyone liked it
It didn’t matter if it never became a best-seller
Showing my inner child that I did it
Despite how long it took
Holding my inner child
Telling her she’s still here and it’s okay to not be okay sometimes
Forgiving my inner child
For believing in those cruel words
Choosing to cower and hide
Running from my truth
I am a writer
And I will inspire