Every now and then I read stories and poems I wrote years ago. I have a crate of notebooks full of my thoughts and musing. I don't throw away any of my of my writing. It may be useful for future stories and poems.
My moods were many. Joy. Happiness. Despair. Hope. Sadness. Anger. Gratefulness. There wee times four and five hours straight. And I still had more to write! The deeper I went into the oceans of my mind the more I had to say. Such is my lot. It's better than running out of anything meaningful to say.
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