an empty page

The thoughts are always swarming inside, followed with scattered words.

This is the part I am most uncomfortable with. The part that I always have been, even when asking for support to live.

This is not me. not who I see myself as. Perhaps when the book is completed – if it is able to be published, then the tides will turn and it will be my gift to you…  will be my gift, me – and so much more.

But for now, there is the loathing of having to ask, and in attempting to construct the request I am left with a full mind and empty page…

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