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  • Sometimes I think it's a blessing to love and hurt so hard. It cracks the world's shell and lets you peer at its soft interior. Other times I want the emotional whiplash to go away. I forget the miracle of being alive, of feeling anything at all, because it's not supposed to be this unfair. Sometimes I feel like a wonder. Sometimes I feel very small. Sometimes I forget that I feel small and wonder why I can't just keep blindly growing bigger.

    I found a word document today from 2005, buried in a folder within folders on my portable hard drive from several laptops ago, and it listed reasons I feared at 15 'the writer's life.' They were all fears regarding not being good enough, admired enough, not getting enough attention, not being able to make it... I wish someone had just told me: you are good enough, always. Admiration will not always be aplenty but it also will not buy you happiness. Attention is something you give your own heart. And the fact that you exist as you are + have come as far as you've come in all these years ... is living proof that you are making it, love.
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