Today is the day I start

I haven't really updated anyone or my blog about my book/author journey, but I'm starting to write today. Actually, I have already started to write the alleged title(s) of my new book some time back. I have been asked about my upcoming book after my debut as an author in 2018 for many years (mostly by one or two person(s) honestly). "If Only My Eyes Could Speak" is a beautiful book. A sweet debut to my literary journey and I'm grateful for my first book. I believe some of the poems in that book were written when I was 12-13 years old, which means the publication of my debut novel took about 5-6 years. It is a small book, but it remains so mighty. My first love. Writing has always been my first love and it means so much to me. It is how I express myself. It is how I speak as I struggle with diagnosed autism and partial nonverbalism/mutism. I am really anxious to speak on the titles of my new book, as I kept the first title and publication a secret to the world until I officially published on my 18th birthday. It was my little secret. Something I held on to dearly. Something that nobody could take away from me as the world has taken my mental health, my body, my family, and my speech away from me among a multitude of other things. I didn't receieve any gifts on my 18th birthday, which is not an unusual phenomenon for me. I have learned to not even celebrate or remember my birthday as it is just a common day for me that is filled with so much pain and loss. But, as I think back to my 18th birthday.. My eyes well with tears. I have been abused and told that nobody will ever love me and I've even been told by lovers that I don't love myself. When I think of the gift of publication of my first book, awe.. How sweet. I love myself so much and I do the best I can despite what people say and do to me. How I admire my younger self for my strides in life. I published that book while I was in a severe domestic violent relationship so it means so much to me. That was my voice. A small voice, but a mighty voice in a world filled with disdain towards the voice of a young, black woman. A young, black woman raised in College Park, Georgia. The disabled one. The crazy one. The hoe. The slut. I remember so many instances of my life where I remained the underdog and it has brought me to this single moment. I feel emotional thinking of my writing journey. I did my best truly and I tried my best. Right now, I' aiming for 200-300 pages with a hrdback cover. That would be a dream come true if I could muster up the strength to write that many pages as I'm still recovering from a traumatizing hospital stay. My one desire is to be a writer and this moment means so much to me. A dream I could never shake even from a young girl is the dream of being a respected author. I started writing from a young age and even had my work published in a museum when I was a young girl. A moment that I will forever cherish. A fever dream for a young girl from an abusive home. A home with no love, except the love of my twin brother and my grandma. My rock and sunshine. Now that they are gone and it's just me in this world, I will do my best to write. Write again. Write some more. And then keep writing more. God knows I am and have been trying my best with no handouts, no mommy, no daddy, no help, and no shortcuts.