She writes in her sleep as a child. Cursive. What is she writing about?
Heavy emotions, too sensitive? Many think so and she also thinks this of herself.
Her mind is always trying to make sense of it all. Her life, her history, her feelings, her behavior, other’s behavior, her experiences, her future.
At times she writes, writes on paper. It just comes to her. She needs paper and a pen. Hurry, hurry before it has been forgotten. There is no other way to get out what she is going through, what she is thinking of, what she is feeling.
She has evolved and keeps evolving because of her brain and her feelings. That analytic, creative, over-expressive self.
Little did she know all this time, until decades later, that it is part of her, part of her journey; and she must write.

I never considered myself a writer or that I liked writing until about the age of 12, when one day words, lines came to me that I desperately had to write down. I wrote poetry from then on. I used to be laughed at by a sister when I was younger because I use to also write (in cursive) while I slept. Very peculiar. But, it wasn’t until recently, some 30 years later that I think I wasn’t practicing my penmanship (as I had thought), but had actually been writing in my sleep – always jotting down my thoughts, stories, poetry. So, I guess I have always had a gift – or need – to write and not until recently had I truly acknowledged that I may love to do so, also.

Grace, at a younger age.