Thoughts need words. Words need a voice.

Words. I'm surrounding by thousands of words. Maybe millions...Deep within me, words pile up in huge drifts. Mountains of phrases and sentences and connected ideas. Clever expressions. Jokes. Love songs...I have never spoken one single word. I am almost eleven years old.

I learned to dream through reading, learned to create dreams through writing, and learned to develop dreamers through teaching. I shall always be a dreamer.

Words have always swirled around me like snowflakes-each one delicate and different, each one melting untouched in my hands.

Thoughts need words. Words need a voice.

One series of notes, high and delicate, sang of a sweet moonlight kiss gone sour; another line of music rippled with regret over opportunities forever lost.

By the way, there is nothing cute about a pink wheelchair. Pink doesn't change a thing.