I can feel each word as my eyes stared at the white screen. I felt guilty. It had to be about me. Or was I being selfish. I have written stories about those who shared their secrets with my listening ears. Here I was telling all mines. We’re writers. I have told you things no one else knows. I know you’ll write about me. Or am I being selfish again. I wanted you to write about me. Make me feel like someone is actually listening. Tell my story for me. I have not built enough courage to tell the full truth.