I look at the name I have given myself for admission to this site.
Bald Writer. it
With this in mind I rise up from my secure, comfortable seat and
proceed to the holey room, where I will consult with my truth seer.
Gazing into its recently cleansed flat glass surface, the truth of
the first part of that nomenclature is confirmed. Definitely (and
for a very long time) bald.
I return to my seat, look at my new identity, and open word. The
blank page opens.
Liar
Is the one word I see on the blank paper. My second truth seer
confronts me. I call myself writer, but the page is blank. I see only
the work that I know is not really there. When was the last time I
filled it with words, thoughts, truths or even lies.
There was no time. Lies
There were no ideas More lies
I have no talent Excuses.
So I enter this church of confession. I ask
you, my confessors for forgiveness of my past sins, determined not to
repeat them. Looking forward to the writing to follow.
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