I write all the time.

There is nothing I would rather do, nothing I can see myself doing in the future, nothing that makes my fire burn like writing.

That being said, my writing has yet to reach the ears of those who would appreciate it. Pending my inevitable gain of transportation, I will embark on a euphoric journey to havens of people who revere this art to the level that I do.

Case and point: where I call home at the moment is full of phony faces. Everyone, with a few brilliant exceptions, is afraid for one reason or another to make their true feelings and selves known. It's not that these writers I seek do not exist; it's that they are hesitant to show their faces, for fear of ridicule?

Ridicule for what?

Succeeding in capturing fleeting moments, powerful emotions that others balk at? Confronting head-on the darkest parts of their own soul and being? Not being afraid of what will come out in their writing, so long as it is true?

There is no need for ridicule, of course.

Excuse me, I have become sidetracked.

Ah, yes.

The world and our community of Johns Creek will be immeasurably bettered when we come to the understanding that masks just won't cut it anymore.

The truth is what we need, and until this is what we get, there will be a number of horrible side-effects of our disguises.

War, Distrust, Confusion, Sadness, Apprehension.

In truth, they dissolve.

Whomever you referred to, Allie, thank them for me as well. You have great things ahead of, behind, and beside you. Never forget your potential or your accomplishments.