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I'm a writer. I'm a strange person. I'm getting tired of keeping my head down and my mouth shut so that the Normals aren't discomforted by my freakish thoughts and attitudes. I often don't know what effect the words i say are going to have on those who hear them. fear or laughter, sorrow or comfort? will they think we mad, or stupid, or brilliant, or too cerebral to understand and therefore nonsensical? If I hold back my words until I'm sure, I speak little and most of that vague and nearly meaningless. I don't know what I will write in this journal. Some of it will be fiction, some of it real, some of it a mixture of the two. Some of it might make no sense at all, not even to me; dreams and verse seeking interpretation; ink blots on a page. All of it should be taken with a grain of salt, or perhaps with a margarita, or best of all, with contemplation and rational thought.
15_minute_fic, dreams_library, dw_community_promo, dw_feed_promo, lj_refugees, metaquotes, religion_chatter, thewritersherald
15_minute_fic, comicbook_icons, dreams_library, dw_community_promo, dw_feed_promo, dw_maintenance, dw_news, lj_refugees, metaquotes, religion_chatter, thewritersherald