Posted in Storytime


“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she muttered for the hundredth time that morning. “I’ve just got to jump in and do it. No one will probably read it anyway. Alright? Ok? Wait now what do I write.” She stared at her computer with a mixture of horror and stubborn pride. She had been thinking of starting a blog for ages, years.

She wasn’t happy…wait that’s not the right word, she was happy. She wasn’t completely content unless she was writing. It gnawed away at her insides. Besides, let’s face it. She was the social equivalent of a water buffalo in a circle of cheetahs:too slow to keep up and too awkward to pretend to fit in. She could only make her self understood with the power of the written word.

Breezy took a deep breath and dived in:



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