Pretentiousness is unavoidable. I am dealing with concepts for the first time. It is what I require to learn them. I have a very hard time believing that I have hit a bridge too far already. That taking time to tell every fact overturns the best way to communicate truth. I am not emotionally where I was a year, half a year, or six months ago. I do not think that this crosses a line I do think it represents a line. Harmless as it is, I will say when something is fiction and something is a fact. I did see a fact, and what the fact was, is not as important as the people behind it. I see and am familiar with facts but the thought the fiction of motivation was more important. This had to happen for me to become a person, again. I write lies to expose the truth. I write to find what is within me. I am excited. I fear I will always be pretentious as many in the field, that I climbing toward, consider themselves. We write about lives that aren’t ours and broaden the scope of realism, thought, and motivation. I write fiction. I tell stories. Then I am expected to write the truth another way?
Why do I want to live in one place over another. Why do I think that Iowans don’t know how to drive in snow or how to recycle. Comments I reproduce aren’t their own. The comment is no longer about anyone else after I write it because it is impossible for me to write about anything beyond myself. My writing is myself and I only know one way to write.


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