I must be out of my mind. Why am I torturing myself by imagining that I am a writer that someone wants to read? Why am I putting myself in such an unforgiving position? What do I have to say? The most painful question of all is why do I even bother? Many published authors have professed that they have always wanted to write, always have written and MUST WRITE. I understand this. I always wanted to teach, have always taught and MUST TEACH. My interest in writing, other than writing curricula or a very occasional letter, is a relatively new happening in my life. I am compelled by an inner need to put something of myself down on paper. Am I afraid that if I don't it would be as if I never existed?