Written By Julie

      Ever since I was a little girl, I have wanted to be a writer. I have always loved the idea of writing all my secrets where nobody would ever hear them; the idea of writing what I could never say out loud. Hearts can leak, but books can never be broken. Hearts can be robbed, but books keep fighting and fighting until there is nothing left that’s worth stealing.  I developed a sense of “trust” in my notebooks. I loved thought that my words mattered to them.        It’s this constant battle you see, one that often throws me amidst the knights and the warlords, and their bloody misunderstandings. That’s all that war really is: a bunch of people misunderstanding each other. There is a rare case or two of people fighting just to kill time, but for all of the other times, there is always a reason. My reason is my "introvertiveness."        I hate my definition.        I was shy, I was sad, and worst of all: I knew it. My notebooks were my prized possession. Ea

Dear Reader, No. It's actually more like wordless... Lately, I've been so focused on writing to please people. My teachers, my parents, my clients, they all expect perfection but there's only so much of the "perfectly worded" me to go around. If I keep dishing out the words at this rate, eventually I'm going to crack. Does anybody else on the big, worldwide web know this feeling? The feeling of being so wordy without saying anything at all. I can write page after page about the effect that the Civil war had on pancakes in the South or the what pizza does when sprinkled with radium. (totally making this up by the way. I have no idea what effect radium has on pizza) I want to say something that will make people think long and hard about life, freedom, love, but how can I do that when my words are aimed at someone else and not me. That's one of my resolutions. Speak as if the room is empty. Write as if no one is reading. Express myself as if no one ca