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July 7, 2010
Every once in a while I stumble across a song with the most beautiful lyrics, and I can't help but feel a little stab of depression. Could I ever, ever write like that? I think once I wrote better. Or, at least, prettier. But somewhere along the way, I began to cut off the fluff, which is what they tell you to do, and now my writing is nothing but skeletons. Bones. White, bleached, exposed under the sun and waiting for anything, anything, to make them move, to dance. Did that make sense? I'm not sure that made sense.