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I've had this journal for 12 years. I've hardly blogged for 6 or so of them. I read a few of my first entries and wanted to vomit. I can't decide if it's from the abuse of slang, the naivete, or the sheer hope that I used to have is more upsetting.

I've joined comment_fic in hopes that writing tiny little bits of writing will help bolster my terrible writing work ethic, because, despite everything, I still hold an illusion that I can write fic, even if most of it never sees light of day, aside from the friend I write it for/with, and is the actor equivalent of bad bandfic. Though I will say we both have grown as writers.

I don't know if anyone's left who reads this, but if you do, thanks.