There are days when my writing sends warm tingling feelings shooting up my spine, sets off fireworks inside my chest and makes me walk a little taller. These days are rare, but when they do happen, I am a different person.
There are also days when my writing makes me feel small, anxious and alone, like a lost child. I thought the lost child comparison would make a good blog post.
Here are my reasons, which I hope some of you can identify with:
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