He Looks Tired, Like Someone Walked On

Because You Can't Write Habitually And Well All The Time, You Have To Be Willing To Write Badly. That's How You Get The Regularity That Enables You To Be Present For The Good Stuff.

At Night, The House Thick With Sleep, She Would Peer Out Her Bedroom Window At The Trees And Sky And Feel The Presence Of A Mystery. Some Possibility That Included Her--separate From Her Present Life And Without Its Limitations. A Secret. Riding In The Car With Her Father, She Would Look Out At Other Cars Full Of People She'd Never Seen, Any One Of Whom She Might Someday Meet And Love, And Would Feel The World Holding Her Making Its Secret Plans.

So I Feel That Lack Of Qualification. And I'm Scared. And I Have A Tendency To Think Things May Not/probably Won't Work Out. That's My Basic Mindset.

If Thr R Childrn Thr Mst Be A Futr Rt?

No One Is Waiting For Me. In This Story, I'm The Girl No One Is Waiting For.