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This is how it is and was. I was asked to write a poem for literature class in 11th grade. People laughed. Not because I was bad, but because I was the apparent master of plagiarism!
Asked to write another about suicide for Comm. Studies in 12th grade. I wasn't in the classroom while it was read. When I came back, people looked sorry for me. I laughed!
Then when life became a burden in the middle of adolescence, I wrote so that I would not scream, stab, fight, curse, cry, or kill. I cursed and cried nevertheless.
Now, i don't know why I write. Novelty? Release? Because you need one for assignment and you're willing to pay? Because you need one for assignment and we're best friends? Because you need one for assignment and you'll blow me later if you get a good grade...Maybe (-:
And yes! If this story has holes in it, that's cause i'm not very good at 'em!
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