I have a memoir piece that I’ve been thinking about for a while and I know it’s a really cool idea because the structure is different than a typical memoir piece. But writing about my ex is province more difficult than I thought/want it to be. Maybe it’s that it still makes me sad and angry whenever I think about him. I tried continuing today and I just couldn’t and ended up staring into space like a catatonic.
Why must things like exes exist? Sigh.
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