Saturday, March 6, 2010

100 post # 6

So I've been writing a little bit for a few days and already this thing shows itself. Something in me pointing a finger at me, has a look of disgust on its face, makes me feel false, unworthy, inept - you get the idea. This is what happened when I had a little piece of myself published about 17 years ago, but it was far worse then. It's like if you let someone see it, it's tarnished or cheapened. Something in me expects that I should carve my letters into the walls and floors with my fingernails. Writing.

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