“All you have to do is write one true sentence.”
— Ernest Hemingway
I don’t know the truth yet at least part of me wishes to know it. There is also part that loves the mystery and the not knowing. I have known love and treated it badly and well. I have known crushing despair. I have also know joy. There are parts of myself that are rarely satisfied. I seek knowledge yet run from it. I carry contradictions. There are many whom I love. Hate takes a lot of energy. Annoyance is relatively easier. Tho the previous statements are all the truth as I know it, I wonder how many contain lies as well.
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