I often wonder what my life would be like if certain paths were not taken. My kindness has been taken for granted so many times, I have stopped counting. I wonder what if I had lived a selfish life. Would I have everything that I dream of having? I have stopped my life to be entangled in relationships, which I wanted so bad to work. I loved with all my heart. I gave all that I could give.
 I have thought hard about sharing my true story. Yet, I’m apprehensive. Would people feel sorry for me, or would the exposure of my story say that’s what I get? Why do I even care?
 Writing has brought me so much peace during difficult situations. However, it’s different this time. I can’t quite seem to get my thoughts and feelings out on paper. Every time I start, I transition to something else or I get distracted.
 I wish I didn’t care so much. I wish I could write and not have to censor my thoughts. I want to be free. I want to use writing as a source of strength. I want writing to free me and love me and accept me. Am I asking for too much from my writing?
 Why do you write? What do you expect from your writing?


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