I used to always feel as if I was not meant for this world. In fact, part of me still feels that way. I will always credit writing to be one of the main reasons I still exist on Earth. Writing is my tie to this world. Often it feels as if my writings belong here, but I do not. But my writings come from my thoughts, and my thoughts come from myself. Without me, there would me none of my writings. Without my writing, what would be of me?