Sometimes things happen that are just better written in the format of a story than as a journal entry. Or maybe some things are better INTERPRETED that way, so as to avoid unsettling feeling. These are peicesof my older diary.
So I'm single, lonely, aching, wanting, needing. I've been with the same guy for five years, single for maybe six months, and now my real games begin. It is always a risk to write what you live... how easy it is to begin
living as you want to write.
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