So, I'm reading this book called The Full Spectrum (thus the post title), it's a collection of essays and poems edited by David Levithan (who rocks) and Billy Merrell (who I've never heard of before). (It's really good and if you haven't read it I highly suggest it.) Anywhoo, I'm reading along, laughing, gasping, and getting nervous and angry at all the right moments, and I stumble across this story called "A Story Called 'Her'". And this story really touched me. It reminded me poignantly of my current situation, but also gave me hope.

Chapter One
Amelia

My earliest memory is probably that of a swing. I was sitting on a swing (as you do), swaying back and forth, legs too short to touch the ground. I held on tight, Mother was pushing me telling me to ‘hold on tightly’. It’s so vivid in my mind. I remember it was a sunny day. There were also other kids. Then I let go, landing face first onto the rocky concrete.

*Private*
*Omitted*
- EDIT TO VIEW -

The Willow

I don't know about anyone else but I love writing longhand. In my room I have stacks of notebooks, napkins, loose paper, etc. full of snippets, observations, paragraphs, titles, plot-planning, everything.
And I love writing by hand because its a much wider window into emotion and then I transfer over.