Just after I turned four years old my mother gave me my first journal. The first few entries I made were actually dictations written out by my mother, but eventually, I was able to write out my own words in my own hand. As evidenced by the journal, my days as a four year old were filled with making observations and communicating concerns about the life I maintained. One of the most hilarious is revealed in the one-lined entry, "I wish I could read". Since then I have continued to track my observations and concerns in journals of different colors, bindings, and sizes. Now, with the new year, and thus change and positive development in mind, I have decided to start a new journal right here, on this page. I'm pledging at least a poem (or some other kind of entry) a week to aid in making my little voice, and any others out there that have a desire to be heard, to come leaping out of the boxes we often mistakenly keep them in.