I used to write. I never really shared my writing with people, though I did post some poetry I did online and got positive reviews. My mother sometimes wouldn't believe I actually wrote something, and the few people I actually allowed to read my writing all said it was good. I lost that 5 or 6 years ago. I've come up with ideas for stories/poems/novels, but never had the ability to get them onto the page. Mental illness has robbed that from me. But the other day I was struck with an idea for a novel, and frankly it is consuming all of my thoughts in a way no idea ever has. So I'm actually writing it. I doubt it will ever see the light of day, but I'm happy to have stolen this back. Take that insanity.