My 2020 writing project has been all-consuming. I'm not done yet, probably not even close, but it's taking me pretty far down the old memory lane. I'm reading things I wrote decades ago, when I had no one but my sisters to talk to or confide in or learn from.
It's like reading someone else's writing.
I was hilarious, sometimes.
Deep.
Petty.
Sometimes heart breakingly desperate to escape.
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