Have you ever wondered why we humans feel emotions the way we do? Have you ever lay awake at night and ponder your existence. Though we beings were placed so meticulously on the dirt of this fine world, we often feel as if we should drift away like sand off dunes in the Sahara.
Many people fight sleep with a small urge to break the silence and rip through the darkness that surrounds them. Their lives are in ruins and they know that everyone around them is aware of the circumstances that doom their poor soul. In their mind they are alone, but as they sit with tears in their eyes they see a man trudging down the street. His feet drag the ground as he does his best to pick up one foot after the other. The hunch like stature on the man with the wire like beard makes him seem as if he spent the entirety of his life peering over the keys of a typewriter. His eyes squint as the blur turns clear. He brings his chair under him comfortably, cracks his knuckles, and brings his long thin fingers over to the middle row of the keys. The paper sit slightly ajar until he catches the mistake and straightens it. His fingers move over the keys effortlessly as his story begins.

The way to yours.

My little girl. Beautiful thing you are, such an amazing thing you will grow to be. I your father strive to only have the best for you in your life, and that will in time explain the reason behind the decisions I have made for you my dear.
Time has shown its favor for me and your mother, but I feel as if it's easy moments are far long and gone. The moments I will spend with you are short, but worth every second. I will lay my life into this paper, and pray that you will one day find the curiosity to find me using this message I have left for you my dear.

As a boy I was a feisty little fellow with a pocket knife in his trousers and a spirit within. I would wake up before dawn and toss on something to wear. Your grandmother would call on me for breakfast and put the doer I was after spooning the meal into my mouth.
I allowed enough time to feed the chickens before I met with the wilderness. I had no interest in making friends, nor did anyone have interest in befriending me. Often times I sat alone at church because mother wasn't always able to make it. My father wasn't a godly man, he hadn't grown up to be such a soul.
By dawn I was in my favorite place. The library. For children my age, there wasn't much to do other than use your imagination. Books were the key to unlocking such and imaginative spirit like mine. I had never taken time to wonder what other kids my age were doing, because my nose was always stuck in a book reading about Romeo and Juliet or moby dick. As I aged, my mother knew there was something extra special about me. No one was ever able to put their thumb on it but her. She knew I had always been bright, but she wasn't aware or just how bright I was.
One morning I had been old enough to make my way to my first class. I had never been in a school house before, so I hadn't known what to expect. I sat my small self into a desk beside a boy named Benny. I kept to myself at first, but after a number of minutes Benny couldn't resist anymore. He introduced himself and asked where I lived. We had no time to properly get to know each other before we were interrupted by the lady who had been our teacher.
She had asked for all of us to introduce ourselves and made her way around the room taking names. All of the kids had introduced themselves except for me. Her blue eyes looked in my direction and she spoke to me. My face had gotten awful red and I looked to my feet. I stood and introduced myself.

Talking was always difficult for me. I never really found the right words to say. I figured that if I were just like some of those people in the books I read, that I might just be able to make something of myself.

Weeks went by in school and the teacher who was an awful sweet young lady had sent a letter home with me. Her instructions were not to read it, but to give it to my mother as soon as I got home. When I returned home I have my mother the note that belonged to her and found myself in the woods. I threw myself over a branch of a tree and sat reading for hours.
As dusk had started showing itself on the sky, I started on my way home.

My mother was at he door waiting for me and she held it open so I could come inside. Her eyes were watery and she seemed to be distraught.