Read a piece that I wrote last year for a class and as I'm sitting here listening to some Kid A, all I can think is... how can I not do this?
Time to start writing again. But I don't think I'm ready for any of you to see it. I think I've passed the moments where I can just whip up little things that are a little trite but also a little tender in this blank box, only to press publish post thirty minutes later.
I'll let you see the real things when I'm ready.
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