Looking under my bed

I woke up a few days ago and the pendant on the chain around my neck fell off. It was on when I went to bed, so I know it’s tucked away somewhere in the vicinity. So I checked underneath, amid cobwebs and dusty clothes.

I couldn’t find the pendant, but I did find some old notebooks. Sort of diaries, but not strictly so. Stories, poems, songs, streams of consciousness, etc.

I’ve always been a good writer (and illustrator,as there were a few doodles), and maybe the stuff I saw showed some promise, but they just seemed so nonsensical at times. I was so emphatic. I understand, young Sheila! This character is enamored with another character! This story is set in the 1940s!

Don’t get me started on the needless cussing. I thought goddamn swear words made you sound fucking grown up. Maybe in some parts, but once I realized I could swear and nothing earth-shattering would happen I started doing it too much. Swears become so weak if you use them often.

Once I’ve become a more renowned writer to a broader demographic, I want to share my mediocre work as well and make good edits. It would be a neat educational adventure. I think it will be best executed either in audio or video show. Whenever it happens, you’ll probably be able to find it on my SoundCloud or YouTube.

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