When I say I didn’t know I wanted to be a writer, I am full of shit. A few years ago in a dusty box I found my notebooks and journals for the random times I sat down to catch the flow throughout the years. I’ve been writing poetry since 1991, it’s true. I still have the pink spiral notebooks filled with bubble letters, hearts and verses lamenting about my latest crush or the swelling emotions within; proof of where I knew I was headed, someday. Writing hasn’t been a straight path but one hell of a ride as I return to me again and again and again. My true self is equal parts grit and grace, resilience and compassion, confidence and faith, wild…