Feb 032005

I have forgotten that when I am depressed, annoyed, insulted or ignored, that writing makes everything all better. I love you, blank pages. We should run off together and live in the islands where I will write for gumbo and we’ll make lots of lovely little books together.

  One Response to “No One Understands Me Like You Do, Blank Pages”

  1. Aww, sounds like you need some good lovin’, poor guy.

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