I'm the wind beneath my wings
Going back and reading my own earlier stuff can be profoundly fulfilling at times. And I'm not just talking about hatelife, but also about things I wrote in silly diaries and such when I was a kid. (For example: I wrote a two-page narrative story when I was six. Kid you not. It had a discernible plot, character development, falling action/climax/denouement and everything. It's actually better than most of what I've written since. But I digress.)
Maybe this is all a manifestation of my desire to be six years old again.
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