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July 3, 2003
I secretly believe that I'm just faking it. Somehow I am just pulling on rose coloured glasses over everyone else's eyes. I'm afraid that people are going to find out that I am not a wonderful writer, I do not have profound thoughts or original ideas that speak so beautifully in prose. I am merely this puppet that passively jots down a few thoughts and puts them on paper. I just sit in front of my computer hoping for ideas to sprout. I'm not a real writer. In my own mind, I'm just a thinker...a dreamer...a tired fool...