This post touches on the realness of writing. The flip-side to your good days. I enjoyed contemplating my own responses to the questions posed. And read through the comments, therein lies great wisdom.
When I turned eight my mother held a birthday party for me. The children arrived and played with my sister. I felt left out of my own birthday party. I promised quietly I would never agree to having another party for myself. I felt insecure. Two weeks later we moved to the city. I started a new school in the middle of the school term. I was the new girl. At my previous school I had my best friend Angie. We had grown up together. I really missed Angie. Her real name was Angelique and I loved the sound of it. I struggled to make new friends. I was too shy to join in with the other girls, and none of them invited me to. I became a loner. And escaped in books.
Sometimes blogging brings up feelings of insecurity. How will I feel if others read my writing and…
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