spaghettipie

What I Really Really Want

Screen shot 2013-03-20 at 1.35.16 AMThe cursor blinks at me.

I find myself in a dilemma. Where do I begin? What do I write? JT croons in my ear, “Dance. Don’t hold the wall.”

I want to write. I do. But something keeps me holding the wall. And I’ll be honest, I’m not sure I want to know what it is. Whatever it is, I’m evidently content to let it entrap me because why else would I let it keep me from doing what I *want* to do?

Or perhaps the fear of addressing seems more painful than not writing?

Blink. Blink.

 

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