Last night in class I faced my biggest fear and sang in front of the entire class. I sang "Wayfaring Stranger" and I didn't die. I also got complimented and hugged.
I used to write for days. I'd wake up in the middle of the night and jot things down on a napkin next to my bed. I'd hear ideas in my ears as I listened to you talk, or the radio, or whatever
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"Well like, I really like this poem because like, well... like... it has a lot of good like descriptions. I mean like, she really like says a lot of good things, you know? Like when she used those like two opposite meanings for like the same word it really like made a lot of sense, you know? Like, I don't know, I just like really liked this poem."