I am just being dumb. I have this short window of time (so I can read hamlet... but that comes later)... and all I can think of is this writing exercise that we tried in my prose class.

It's meant to unblock (if you're having a writer's block) or to uncensor (if you're that kind of writer who creates barricades on your writing). So this is ramblings in the purest sense. I don't even know what I'm saying.

I just... feel like a dam and somebody just broke me. Damn those beavers not making stabler dams. Why do beavers make dams anyway? 

Can I just ask everyone why they read me?

I think people read me because they like me. Isn't that sympathy?

Think of five people who would read you?

And I have this people. Chang, Choco, Joanna, Habbu, maybe devi if he's not being swallowed whole by his life. Poor Devi. But why would they read except for the fact that they like me.

I dont know my reader profile. Because sometimes I feel like I shouldn't be read. You know. Because I'm incredibly dumb. And I try my hardest not to put on any sort of censors whether it comes to morals or grammar. LOL. I am ttt.

I like writing. Sometimes, I think writing is living without the pretense. I always write fiction, nonfiction hurts me too much.

Maybe I deflect responsibilities of feeling like such a .

I like daring things.

I dreamed of submitting Love is Bad to publication and the editor told me to make it longer and I said no, because making it longer defeats the purpose of it being flash. And the editor was so enthusiastic about meeting the characters but I refuse writing more... It was a very confusing dream

I want to be published this year... I mean short stories. But I can only be more, anxious.

I shouldn't be here. I have four papers next week. HOLY .

Take it bird by bird.

Okay.

Ramblings over. I need to ead Hamlet now.