Rambling Thoughts As A New Adventure Begins.
My earliest memory of writing a story was the one I wrote when I was five. I didn't any friends, the kids I wanted to be friends with didn't like me much. I was odd, I was different. So the first time I wrote a story, I wrote about a snowman who liked me, who wanted to be my friend. He went around to other kids, telling them that I was nice, really. When you noticeably stand out, it can be hard fitting in. I was the only black kid at school for my whole school career. Other black kids came and quickly transferred to other schools. I latched one to people as I grew older. Other kids, the wrong kids. I got into relationships as an adult because I didn't want to be lonely. If someone said they liked me, well, that was rare, I had to date them. It never occurred to me that I had other choices. That I didn't have to settle for whoever said they liked me, just because I was so desperate to be liked. Another stand out memory from my early childhood is of me, paintbrush...