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it’s happening again…

I have so much to write about- so much squirming around up there. Yet when I go to write, I can barely squeeze out a word or two and it just stops. I don’t understand it. If it’s a masochistic self-loathing causing it, wouldn’t that like just be an award-winning novel right there? 11 years now… the 20 years prior I couldn’t stop writing. The past 11 in small fits and spasms some words come out.

I hate it.

I’m broken.

1 Comment »

  1. pirano said,

    April 5, 2007 at 4:58 am

    You’re not broken, damnit.

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