Every day I sit and think, “I want to write”. But with my best intentions I never do. I never know what to write, l worry that my grammar and punctuation will poor, that I will aimlessly ramble.

Why worry though, this is supposed to be therapeutic for me. While perfection would be nice, it would not, or rather should not be necessary.

Perfection is like chasing the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Impossible.

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