childhood memories
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The most dangerous people are the ones who have nothing to lose. The box had my name on it. Not my adult name. The name I wrote across everything when I was nine, with the last letter curled backward because I hadn’t learned to make it properly yet. It was sitting in the attic beneath…
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Somewhere today someone is celebrating a birthday, but I truly wonder if they are celebrating the way they should. There it is again. The writer’s block. A great big stubborn wall parked right in the middle of my afternoon like it paid rent to be there. I stared at the blinking cursor hoping it would…
