Sometimes, I want to get sick just so that I can get a day off and not have to lie about it.
I feel like I've written that already. I probably have already told someone that already.
And sometimes I wish I could break out of my normal, more silent nature to let the important people (ok, him) know that what they so admire in others lies within me too. That all the admirable miniatures glimpsed in others' words have been thought by my own mind before. That I, too, see things in my own unique way. That perhaps I, too, have written things that would surprise and impress and ring true.
But I can't. If I revealed all it would be for the wrong reasons, as if to say, "See, see, I can do that too. In fact I've done it before. Hey, hey, you! Look here!" It's so pathetic.
Sometimes I wonder what those closest to me would think of what I write here.
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