Three years ago I began writing my first manuscript. Three years ago I set off on this expedition to tell and share my story.

And let me tell you. Writing it has been so painful. So beautifully painful.

I was having trouble finishing it. It was so close for months. I could not write for quite some time, I could not add to it. I felt like there were always more developments in my life to add to, and I was constantly thinking I had to account for ALL of it in my piece. And then it hit me. I am 20 years young, and if I keep trying to account and include EVERY single development in my story of life, then this piece would never be over. It would go on and on and on and on and on...

So I had envisioned a certain way since the beginning. I had a vague idea of where I wanted it to "end." So I sat down last night, journals sprawled across my bed. And started to write again. And I did not stop. Until the last page. Until the last of what I wanted to say was written.

Of course a piece is never truly complete and finished, but I feel like the Heart of the Memoir is finished.

I am crying right now. Because I am proud. Because a weight has been lifted. Because there is a certain level of closure to ending this piece.

It feels so good. So. So. So. Good.

And I alone have given myself this feeling.

It all comes from me and my own.