My face isn't carved in a mountain. I've never been struck by lightning.
I've never saved a crying baby from a burning house fire nor have I over come my misfortunes in life to acquire a name for myself. I consider myself a writer although all I've written is only pieces of torn limbs of my distraught existence. (a bunch of poems)
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Thursday, December 25, 2025
Christmas 2025
My anxiety has been bothering me immensely!
My first Christmas without my mother.
I've been pacing the floor walking in circles can't sit down and pick up a pencil to write.
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