I was in the Navy. Long nights spent awake, sinking into the abyss of my own thoughts, hiding there. An endless ocean and countless stars outside of the steel walls but my imagination was my refuge. I love to read, I could always escape in to words; sometimes you prefer paper and ink to real life. I love to write, but I'm scared. I don't take too kindly to letting people see me vulnerable, I'm afraid they'll see the real me if I write it out. But now that I'm out of the Navy, what is there really to be afraid of? There are worse things than spending your life doing what you love.