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I have been declaring what it is I want for many years, and yet no ones knows what it is I dream of. Is that my fault or have they just not been listening? All I have ever truly wanted to do is write. Notebook after notebook of stories, poetry, dreamed up characters and title lines are hidden in my closet. Placed strategically underneath my bed, and tucked away in the corners of my bedroom. To write a classic story, land in the New York Times Best Sellers List, and then in the classrooms of literature students would be the ultimate... but I would be satisfied just to be read and enjoyed. To see something I wrote in print, sitting on a shelf, would be enough for me.
As it is, to reach that I first must leave my insecurities. The fear of failure, of rejection, of never breaking free of the monotony... So, after much deliberation, a few phone conversations, and one final decision... I am breaking free! It's a complicated process, but the first step was acceptance. I've placed my feet firmly on the second step and I'm preparing to bridge the gap to the third... but it will take time, and time I have plenty of.
So, while I am not alone, I am not afraid to stand on my own.
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