From Whence i came...

For quite some time now, Ive been told that i should write a book... And with each time i was told that... i would say to myself: “ A book?; I absolutely detest writing!”. “How the hell can i sit down, focus long enough to write a book?” “Who would take time to read it? Why would anyone do such a thing?” All the usual questions of doubt... You know that famous self doubt we impose on our selves, unconsciously setting limitations on ourselves.  However, never once did i disagree with the fact that; like any other human occupying this existence we refer to as life... Regardless of your experience, we all have a story to tell. A story that will possibly impact someone or another. I never thought of myself more greater or less than any other person living or deceased... Always felt like the only thing that separates us all is an act! Action! From there, it’s left to the eyes of the holder to react, interpret.