Just A Dreamer

I wish I was a real artist; I suck at putting things in a way that stirs heavy emotions in people. I’ve tried time and time again, but what comes out of me is complete gumbo.

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Long Time, No Speak

Hello friends! So, I realize I went completely AWOL. I also realize I wrote in one of my last posts that I would catch up to my one-post-a-day entries. Something tells me that I won’t be able to catch up at this point.

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M.V.P

Most of us grow up with someone look up to: someone we admire for all the things they do for us, or the things they’ve done for others, or for accomplishing things that we want for ourselves. I just happen to be so lucky to have that someone be a person that has not only been in and around my life forever, but also help raise me. 

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I’m A Writer, Part Two

I started writing at a really young age. I remember my teachers from elementary school submitting my assignments for contests that were held throughout the school year, and finding my work on the walls, in different halls. I always had a vivid imagination, consumed with the ideas of magic and grandeur, life always moving on and throwing you around. I started out as a little girl with a lot of things to think about and say, and paper just seemed to be the perfect place to do that.

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The Writing Room

In reality, my ideal space to write is anywhere that has a flat surface, and allows me to clear my head. I don’t even really need much to be able to write anywhere; I just need some peace and quiet. You know, so I can hear the little voice in my head telling me what to write.

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I Prefer The Real Thing

I remember when the first Kindle was released. It was in 2007, around the beginning of my bookworm stage. I thought that the idea of being able to have all your books in this one little device was so cool—but I never asked my parents for it, because I liked getting books from my school library.

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