For the past 98 days, I have been barely living.

Sometimes I’m afraid I’ve forgotten how to write. Then I think, if I’ve forgotten how to write, maybe I’m not a writer. But, if I’m not a writer, and I can’t write, then with what am I left?

 

On the path of recovery, if not death.

 

 

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3 comments

  1. Sometimes you just don’t have to write, not for a public, anyways. Stay strong, and like the previous commenter mentioned, you’re never alone.

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