I’m a writer.
That’s the first bit.
I don’t know why that feels so strange or painful to say, but it does.
I want to acknowledge it.
I want to acknowledge the feelings of stuckness.
The ache of Knowing.
The pain of Being.
The finicketyness of WORDS.
I want to let it be, and let it go.
I want to let myself be, and let myself flow.
I am, I can be, Home.
I AM …
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