Her Journal
He asked me to write something real. To write what I know. He said there is talent in my writing. I have to laugh, thinking maybe even he can’t see through the bullshit I write…but then again maybe he can. So this I write, what I know…what is me…as painful as it is going to be… I look at the journal before me, the latest of many I have hidden in a chest. Only this one unlike all the others is empty of words, with the exception of pretty phrases cut out of magazines and pictures of places I...