I’m not ready yet. Really, God, all those times I said I wish I was dead? I didn’t mean it.
Writing without intention or expectation: That’s the truly liberating part.
I still wonder if learning to write in another language is like taking a leap into space.
I even contemplated leaving a note, something short and sweet like, Seasons change. People don’t. No hard feelings?
A calendar of beefcake boys? Forget it. Words are what spark my imagination.
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