I've reached 30,000 words! Writing this novel, it seems, it my place to escape. It's the place I go to when everything gets to be to much, and I'm finding out some very interesting things about myself, about life, about love. I'll just keep pushing on, keep writing this story that nested in my heart and pleaded for me to write it.
"I used to think of myself like one of those old wind-ups toys who popped a spring or a teddy bear whose stitching came loose and the nose is rubbed off. I am placed on the shelf in the back of the closet, something no one wants because it isn’t perfect. But once you are loved, you can’t be broken to anyone but yourself. Broken isn’t how you’re made, but a label you put on yourself. Once you are loved the only one who can call you broken is yourself."
1 comment:
Oh boy! Can we read it!
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