Words in a spiralbound notebook

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When I was around 8-12 years old, I found a spiralbound notebook under my parents bed. I don't know why I got the impression that these stories were my sister's, maybe my mom had told me that they were, but then why were they under my parents bed? Years have gone by, and as it goes, memories fade. I am sure there's something about that time that I'm forgetting. That doesn't really matter, what does is that it popped into my head today. I have been in love with words for years. The way they make me feel, the entertainment they provide. I have lived a thousand lives between the pages of a book. I've written a few of my own words both here and other places. I've been encouraged to write, and I try to encourage others to write as well. I've been staring at a page on my browser for a few days now. I refresh it several times a day, and see 0.35 staring back at me. This makes me both happy and anxious at the same time. I want to see that number increase, but I know that means a lot of work ahead. A lot more words to write, more worlds to weave.... If you are wondering why I haven't been as active here the past few days, that's why. I've been away in other worlds... How's your Sunday? Have you done something that scares you lately?