I'm writing, but I'm not writing fiction. I'm writing to help me understand who I am and where I came from, to better help me understand where I am going. So it kind of looks like I've dropped off the planet. I assure you I haven't. I'm preparing for the new incarnation of me. Change, pain, pleasure, direction, desires...everything is being dumped on the floor and evaluated.
So many changes in my life is such a little amount of time, or is it just my imagination? Does time really move faster as you get closer to the end of the line?
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