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Words in the Garden

Hey, it's Madeline.
And I love to write.What I write might not make sense. But yet here I come. Every time.  It's like a gift that keeps giving. Til' I delete it of course. Ha. 
I feel like my words and thoughts are like flowers from the garden. They are so meaningful, until they wither and go out of season. I grow and learn, and suddenly my old words get replaced with new ones.
It doesn't bother me. It just means I'm alive and learning. Words and writing were a source of comfort when I was little. I didn't know how to ask for comfort during the unsettling times of my childhood. So many times I would write or draw instead.

Just get it out of my head and make it real. Something physical I can see. Made me feel less crazy that way.

And here I am. Still seeking that same comfort.


Of course, what I used to write as a child confused a lot of people. Sometimes I wrote wonderful things. And sometimes I wrote the kind of stuff you never show anybody. When my words h…

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