Can it be an addiction? This need to pour one's self forth from an empty cup? I've always thought myself creative, but perhaps in truth I'm merely needy. I create to fulfill something in myself that is lacking, creating fairytales from the wispered memories of dreams and drawing forth a cloak from a skein of wool to clothe them in. I create to give express my love to those who have touched my soul. I long to be with them always. In a way, if my words stay, if my knitted slippers soften their step in a cold world, I will be there,even if I seem distant and am dreaming of magical realms residing only within my mind.