Maybe I am a masochist; the fear of losing you is a sort of catalyst. Only then do I begin to admit how I feel to myself; I trust that it is real. The pleasure of the pain; is why I feel like I can write again.
I have been told for YEARS that I should be a writer. I always wrote at a time when I felt the need to get stuff off of my chest/heart. I never wanted to benefit lucratively from expressing myself. I have only recently accepted that I was meant to write. Since the accident, I amContinue reading “Accepted”