Maybe it's the only thing I've ever believed I was any good at, this thing called writing and not because I was a grammatical genius but because it's the one place in my life where I'm all the way thoughtful, all the way absorbed enough to feel all of my living years alive were somehow worth while simply by carrying this one gift, this one habit, this one attribute, this one knowledge as far as words could carry me. Across ages and universes through all time and happenstance, with or without another soul on earth. This one skill, writing. Spreading words across paper for nothing more than needing them to be there for me as I was wanting them.