I hate being a writer because it makes me see poetry in everything. I have no peace inside my mind. I turn everything I hear and see and feel into stories and poems and it drives me insane to have all this inside me. I pour feelings, I bleed words. Pain becomes beauty and I see it everywhere. I see it in the sky, in white walls, in my kitchen sink. I close my eyes and I still see it. It haunts me. It hunts me. It screams in the silence, it’s there when I’m alone. It’s in my dreams and nightmares and in my insomnia. It doesn’t leave me. It’s everywhere because it’s inside me. It is me. I am poetry.