Saturday, 6 September 2014

Bottom of well

There are few things that pick me back up when I'm right at the bottom of a well.

The girls: dancing and singing with them, just being around the same house as them.
Talking to one of my best friends: Pidgin, Chrissie, Stacey, Brett.
Writing my book or just talking about my book to someone.

I am such a little person, living a little life, and I have very little to work with. I don't pretend anything on here is worth anything really. I put my thoughts on here in whatever mess they were in while in my head. I don't try to be clever or creative and I don't really edit so I make errors. All my effort, heart and soul goes into my books. My novels actually mean something to me because they are all I've ever felt like I have. All my life I've had stories to tell and that is it.

I've spent my life telling myself that I will not end up like those shadows in the four walls. I've promised myself I will become better than the life I was born into. My novels were the key, as far as I'm concerned they are the only thing that can rescue me. My novels are my knight in shining armour.

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