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by brittanychavez

This blog is not a diary.
A completely average wall in my house. 
(Made completely un-average by the fact that it’s mine.)
Fear held tightly in my stomach.
(Made poetic with words.)
Everything here is non-fiction, but fictitious. The second I put anything into words, it become fiction. In some small way. When I was a kid I always got the definition between fiction and non-fiction confused. It didn’t make sense to put a ‘non’ in front of something that was real. At least to my small mind. 

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