Sensitivity

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Booksie Classic
A tale of a man who's not afraid of himself.

Submitted: January 02, 2014

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Submitted: January 02, 2014

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I hear these thoughts in my head.

"You have no buisness being a writer."

"Who are you?"

"You know nothing."

"You are nothing."

And you know what? I cry. Those words, be they not hurtful enough, hurts me. I hate being sensitive sometimes. Maybe it's a writer thing, but any words with a little hurt in them just feels like a knife driven through my heart. And the fault is my own a lot of times. As a human, I know I have faults but it's like I'm not allowed to have any. I've always been told. I'm not allowed to be upset because I got it good, because I have two parents, because I have everything a person could ever possibly want, but you know what I cry. I get upset. I'm sensitive. And you know what else? I'm okay with it. I'm okay of what I am as a person. So I'm okay with being sensitive because I understand people. I'm okay with making mistakes because I'm human. I'm okay with crying...because that's who I am. No, it's who I choose to be.


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