there is a writer trapped inside of me

There was a time when I felt that I could solve everything with writing. I would sit and I would go to a place, my wonderland, where I would review. Stirring memories and bringing back emotions. It is hard to forget those moments that really truly made me feel. And when I sit and think, my fingers begin to tap at the keyboard, putting forth the truth. Reading the words back to myself was a freeing experience, an exercise that helped me re-evaluate and better understand my experiences. These new understandings, this earned insight, became my outlet. It was a rush.