I can turn words into a story of sadness and happiness, death and life. I can make a stranger's death bring genuine tears to your eyes. I can make you hate me for the sadness, yet love me for the emotions. I am a writer, and I can.
I can support a life within me for nine months, which entails nine months of sickness, an aching back, weird cravings, major mood swings, and making sure it stays alive, ending with a few hours of extreme pain until it pops out.
.
Are you absolutely sure?