I appreciate silence, deep thoughts, and good music.  At the same time, I enjoy being with friends, playing frisbee, pretending I’m not bound by seventeen-year-old maturity, and laughing at a good joke.

I love my family, my friends, my un-biological siblings.  I love putting words on paper and making characters breathe.  I love horses—riding at sunset.  I love my speech and debate club.  I love charcoal, blank paper, and inspiration.  I love oatmeal cookies and milk.  I love feeling passion.

I’m not always a good sister or daughter.  I’m not very good at being joyful, or submissive, or forgiving.  I’m not a good speaker, or a brilliant thinker.  I’m not capable of writing here everything I’m not.  I’m not who I want to be a year from now, or five years from then, or a decade after that.

But I am a child of the King, with so much to learn and so much to overcome.  I’m a work in progress.  The plot is still unfolding, and until “The End” is written, there are tasks left to be done.