and am reminded that plums are often on the undersides.
It seems there's something to learn from this. Am I to search more deeply for what I'm meant to write? Who I'm meant to be?
Or maybe there isn't so much to do. Maybe it's all in my imagination.
What if I've been making this up for years?
Some days everything seems major, and I can't get a grasp on anything. This is one of those days, and so to this day, I surrender. I raise my purple popsicle.
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