Again

What can I say? I will say all the usual things. The things I’ve said before. The things I’ve said to the ones before you that are still out there somewhere in the world. “I wasted my best words on you.” Writers’ problems. I know, it’s too much, the words I use and the point I’m trying to make is always buried under the words. I know, I should use less words, and I should just get to the point, but that’s too easy–that’s no fun. I like to layer the words, and I like to make you think. I don’t want you to guess, but I want you to enjoy the work. I want you to find something in the words, make your own meaning if you want, just not the wrong meaning. Ha, see how badly that works? See how I did that. I know. I’m sorry. What was I saying? What do I want you to get from this? 

Will you trust me enough to let me use my own words in the way that I like and keep reading them? Will you keep seeking them out? Will you get tired of my words, like so many others before, and move on. Stop reading. Start skimming. Start skipping. That’s okay. I’ve always got more words. And the world is full of eyes to soak them up. Isn’t it? 

I have to do it this way because this is the only way I know how. I could learn another way, but I don’t know if it would really make much difference. My words will still bounce around and weigh on my mind, even if I’m not weaving them together for you to see in some form of print. 

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