Today is Edgar Allan Poe's 202nd birthday. 

I think that if dear Edgar had not been born 202 years ago, I might not have never started this blog. I might even have been illiterate. A dumb, illiterate person with no appreciation for poetry or writing in general. 

You see, Edgar and I go way back. My mom has this fancy hardcover copy of The Complete Works of Edgar Allan Poe with gold leafing and everything, which might have been what first drew me to it, because when I was a youngin' I took a fancy to that book. I tried to read it, even though I didn't really understand what any of the poems or stories were about. I liked the way the words sounded together, even if I didn't know what they meant. As I got a bit older and was able to understand more, this book and I fell more and more in love with each other. I wanted to write like Edgar. I wanted to make music with words just like he did. 

So Edgar is mostly responsible for my love for poetry and interest in writing. And when I feel like nobody cares what I have to say, I think... Hey, Edgar had the most depressingly dreary life a man could have and people still cared what he wrote about! Write on, thine self! 

Heck, I think if he were alive today, he would be blogging, too. Right? 

Thank you, Edgar. Thank you for sharing. Thank you for inspiring.

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