This "novel" or "short story", whatever anyone decides to call it, isn't really meant to be read in the public sense because of the true, enveloping emotions revealed about very real people in my life. When I have looked back on this piece of writing, I have come to realize that it's not the story or writing that's significant. The outcome, the product of it all is merely a bonus because writing this story wasn't about getting published or doing something great for my future college and writing career. It was about realizing how I really feel and finding who I really am using what I know and love best: my writing. As my father once said, if you want to be good at something, you have to practice. That is exactly what this has come to be. The experience of writing this has already been so incredibly helpful to me that it doesn't matter if no one reads it or appreciates it. I have already received my reward: my pride in myself for successfully writing the the difficult story that I so desperately wanted to ignore and forget.
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