Though I am a true writer, I think it is important I say this: writing is not fun. I doubt it ever will be. It is lonesome, frustrating, difficult and all-consuming. So why do I do it? Why do I spend hours of my time miserably trying to write down those perfect words? Why do I put myself through something that gives me total unrest? Because my dear, sweet reader, I will suffer all the more if I do not. Writing, in any way, shape or form, forces us to face our thoughts. That is the purpose. Our thoughts are born in our head, pushed down our neck, sliver down the arm, onto the fingers, through the pen and finally onto paper. Once there, we cannot escape them. We cannot deny them. Whether good or bad, smart or dumb, those words are our thoughts. No one else can think them but us. The good news is that writing our thoughts is an immediate release of pressure. Almost like they were trying to escape our heads in the first place. I cannot sit idly by while these bionic, superchar...