A journey to self realisation

Conscientious Writer

You may notice that I defy convention by not starting with a salutation. This is structured as a letter/essay, to you, to whom I owe a wealth of gratitude.

I must confess, I began in a place of jealousy. It wasn’t the first time I read what you wrote, in fact, I had already read it once before, the words brought me back the memories, tinged with green. Initially, I refused to accept it, at its pristine beauty, I could only regurgitate spite, thick as venom. “How could one write as if they employ the crust of fresh bread, the soft grass, the light of the stars and the silver of the moon as their ink and paper?” It riled me to no end, I’m not proud of it.

Then, being the demon I am, I promptly forgot about it, in the hopes of the oft quoted, “Out of sight…

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