For the longest time, I assumed the desire to put my own words, photographs, and perspectives out into the universe was largely attached to some faulty area of my ego. A shadowy region that’s been hiding since childhood when it seemed everyone in the world was trying to push me out and shut me up. (In reality, it was mostly one kid, but she was very good at it and managed to convince dozens of my peers to follow suit. Hopefully, she is putting those powers of persuasion to good use as an adult.) If I can write well enough, I argued, people will notice me. My existence will have value. And I will have proven that I belong.