We All Poop

TALES FROM THE MOTHERLAND

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We all poop. We bleed when we’re cut.We laugh when it’s funny, and we cry when it hurts. But sometimes it feels like an uphill battle to be recognized as having feelings, by people who I think matter. I try really hard to be thoughtful. I don’t always hit the mark, but it’s rarely intentional. I’m careless sometimes, but then I generally realize it and feel terrible. I apologize; I try to make amends. I try again. In a year that has been especially focused in my personal life on moving on from things, letting relationships that don’t work go, owning my own needs and worth–– it’s been a strange realization that the world where I  write, is often the place I feel the most unheard.

That is a hard thing to swallow, because writing is also where I feel the most me. It’s where I lay things raw and try…

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