I doubt I was much of a storyteller, but I would have put that smile in my book. On page 104, right next to the image of the Ward. I would have written it on my heart. I would have proofread it a thousand times under a thousand moons until a thousand tears thoroughly rationalized what it meant to me. Each time for when I’d met the darkness, and then succumbed. The smile read “you can’t break me’”—bold and in italics.

I write because I'm free,because I can,because I will. I write because I must,because I'm breathing,because I'd go crazy otherwise,because it's who I am.I write to make a statement,to share my thoughts,to discover myself,to express my ideas.But most of all, I write for future generations.I write for love. I write to inspire.I write to encourage. I write for me.

Don't judge me by my books. They're not my voices, and they were never my stories to tell.

And so I've written everything down, too afraid of my demons and what they may say, the doubt that eats at me from the inside. Too afraid that I'll forget and it'll all be a madwoman's dream.