I hate my art; it owns me.
It's more than what I do... It has become who I am.
Writing is my curse, I love it with all I have
It's in my soul, it's my lover, my friend.
Words are the best I have, the best
in me. My art brings me more joy than man...
Feelings are confusing they mingle in ones' heart
stewing and brewing. Making nonsense.
Words are clear. perfect. Direct.
They say what they mean and mean what they say.
They can swaddle in eternal warmth and cut deep. Deep in truth.
I hate my art; It owns me.
It is ALL (say it!) that I am.
Book of Elsa.
WRITER.
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