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I've been told I have a talent in this arena over and over again. I don't quite understand it. All I do is write what I feel, and as I write, I feel more, as I feel more I express more and the cycle spins out of control. Like somebody left modeling clay on the potter's wheel, set a brick on the pedal, and stepped back.
Sometimes, it scares me to write.
As soon as I start putting words to the vagueness that fills up inside my soul there's no telling where the story will go. Will I come out as my own savior? Triumphing in the victory of recognizing and accepting my own worth? Or will I angrily spit the sounds that have rent my mind awake from dark nothingness? Will I re-live another situation that looks innocent to the outsider, only to put down what all of the nonverbal cues actually meant?
I love to write because I love to learn. Writing brings awareness and knowledge. Knowledge is power, but power can be corrupting.
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