I am a writer because my mother says so.
      
      I am a writer because I am teaching myself to look for my pothole blue eyes, fat stomach smile, and popped-bubblegum cheeks in mirrors, television screens, and reflective surfaces. I am a writer because one time I had an innocuous crush on my second cousin and I still cherish all of his two-line emails. I am a writer because I am the stereotypical, spoiled, overloved only child.
      
      I am a writer because my grandfather, whose name is utter gibberish and the colors blue and red and green and radio talk shows and old black-and-white television sitcoms and whose beard is a medusa's pond of browned acid hair, tried to teach me to draw, croissants for eyes and big butterflies for chins. I am a writer because the entire time all I wanted to do was write poetry, turn a phrase, scribe a great ghost quote. I am a writer because I started to cry for no reason and then I hugged him and said, Thank you, Bona, for trying.
      
      I am a writer because I believe that your hand is not an involuntary vessel, a slave to the tick-tock of the dirty poetic resistance of your human mind, but an organ that cries out for bloodied cracked veined remorseful tired, tired release. I am a writer because I want the subtitles on when I watch a movie. I am a writer because right now I should be sleeping.
      
      I am a writer because sometimes at night I lie very still and wrap a shelled shrimp palm just above my left breast and wonder if underneath that throbbing beast is a soul, if my body is simply a container, a hollowed-out cave with moss clinging to my throat, a dewy expanse to inhabit this dreadful concept of me; if I am a sack with pale black cutout holes for eyes and a mouth, if I should imagine something more inside of me. I am a writer because I fall asleep anyway.
      
      I am a writer because thunder brings me to my knees and dramas make me cry. I am a writer because, in the past, I have learned to resent both men, my opposite, and the white race, my own. I am a writer because I have defeated both these intolerances. I am a writer because of Konerak Sinthasomphone, I am a writer because I went through puberty at ten-years-old, and I am a writer because I still spell "embarrassment" wrong sometimes.
      
      I am a writer because when I struggle with eating and talking and moving and breathing, my pen and my keyboard and my hands refuse to run away, to leave, to dissolve. I am a writer because I believe in anyone who thinks that their thoughts should be heard every once in a while. I am a writer because my quiet not-actually pink rose uncle Jeff called me Fanna when he said goodbye, and I have not heard that nickname in over five years.
      
      I am a writer because I am in no position to judge, and I am a writer because I have one of the most pathetically critical mindsets I have ever seen. I am a writer because I still consider my cousins to be my oldest, closest brothers in the entire world. I am a writer because I still am not entirely sure what my voice sounds like. I am a writer because my first defense is to be silent.
      
      I am a writer because I love the way my father's veins stick out, blue chalk and white dust, on the backs of his knuckles. I am a writer because I pay enough attention to pick up on a lot of things, and I am a writer because I am still naïve enough to not quite understand them. I am a writer because sometimes the panic attacks are too much, too hard, too many. I am a writer because I have recently learned self-disgust.
      
      I am a writer because I still secretly idolize my grandmother. I am a writer because I believe that, if not your skin and your teeth and your flabbergasted tongue, you can exist on a page, a piece of paper, a scrap of something. I am a writer because I believe that a picture is a thousand words, and if we simply never stopped, we could turn the whole world into letters, sentences, metaphors, explanations and beautiful, beautiful poetry. I am a writer because I move between sounding like a little girl to sounding like a man.
      
      I am a writer because I believe the way people speak is fascinating. I am a writer because animals think and feel, and a simple language barrier and a variation in brain activity could not make less of a difference. I am a writer because sometimes, when I turn the television off, I feel lonely. I am a writer because I believe we are still the messiest animals alive.
      
      I am a writer because I would never choose to be ignorant, and I am a writer because I believe no one else should, either. I am a writer because I own paper and pens and pencils and a keyboard and a computer screen and a printer, two hands and some half-dead, chewed-over thoughts from a brain that had enough a long time ago. I am a writer because I talk too quickly.
      
      I am a writer because I wanted people to listen to me, not out of love or friendship or obligation or pity or jealousy, but because I asked them to. I am a writer because my face still turned red with shame and gratitude when they did.
      
      I am a writer because my first name is LeeAnn and I am fourteen years of age and I have brown hair and blue eyes and I am very pale and I am too tall and I like things that are stupid, so stupid, unbelievably stupid.
      
      I am a writer because the world has given you all the hands it has left, and has none for itself anymore. I am a writer because I am always, always anxious, while I am sleeping and while I am with those I trust, while I am trying to talk and while I am trying to think, while I am writing and while I am watching.
      
      I am a writer because I told my father some of my fears and he said, Oh, you are just like me, aren't you? We sound so similar. I've worried about the exact same things. I've been so afraid. I've been so alone. I've been there.
      
      And then he said: I'm sorry.
      
      I am a writer because my mother says so, and her word is good enough for me.