Sometimes I feel the real me is hidden in the drafts.
In words, that never get heard, published; words that are scared to come out lest they be rejected for being too simple. Too honest. Too painful. Cruel even.
I have 311 drafts sitting in my Gmail and 395 in blogger.
So many conversations that never happened.
In words, that never get heard, published; words that are scared to come out lest they be rejected for being too simple. Too honest. Too painful. Cruel even.
I have 311 drafts sitting in my Gmail and 395 in blogger.
So many conversations that never happened.
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