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I started to write a post about perfectionism…but I just couldn’t get into it.

I’ve been thinking a lot about writing lately.  Mainly that I miss it!  I miss writing my horrible little attempts at fiction.  I miss writing my HORRIBLE poetry.  Yes, I know it’s bad, but I write it anyway.  Once there was a dream of being published, but now I mainly do it for myself.  It gets locked away where no one can see it but me. And I’m okay with that.

There are times I’m embarrassed to even publish my posts here, I usually feel they are so unrefined and rough that I shouldn’t publish them until I have go over and over them…but I fight the urge and publish them anyway, grammar be damned.

It makes me wonder how many other things I have allowed to drift away because I I don’t feel they are of a high enough quality for other people to see.  What dreams deferred, have become dreams buried?

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