Remember now how I met ya’ll, sitting in a room, desks surrounding a table covered with pages of ink, worlds we had made up and people we imagined? Not a lot has changed in the view from my seat, I can see you all sitting there, looking at me, welcoming me into a secret society of like-minded individuals. Ones who understand that I can write about the monsters under the bed so I can keep them hidden there. My friends who became my family through our ability to laugh at things that scare us as we write the stories that contain them.
We share, not blood, like blood siblings, but thoughts and experiences and the ability to see things from a unique perspective. When I watch a movie or read a book that is different enough to interest me on a deeper level, I want to share it. And you are who I go to. You, my found family, the ones who understand me. You are the ones that I go to when I want to say “I had this dream about a Demon in a Meat Suit who is the President in the Oval Office.” And you get it. You, my found family, get not just it, but me.
Thank you for getting me and letting me tell you the stories that form from the detritus caught in the spiderwebs of my mind. Thank you for following me down the rabbit hole and holding my hand when I come back up.