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My dreamscape is filled with images of a television series and thoughts of the civil war from the 1800’s. I find myself burrowing under my covers because this is the only place I can explore my mind thoroughly.

Finally, sleep marring my vision, I wake up. It’s late, almost noon. And somehow I find it hard to have confidence in myself. How my confidence comes and goes, my warriors glow in the dark over everything. They are more prevalent than my other thoughts.

Maybe someday I’ll find my way out, but for now I am trapped within the birdcage of my own self-doubt, stopping me from flying.

Just as I’m ready to fall asleep again and forget the world, a glimmer of hope makes it’s way forward. I am a good writer. Perhaps I shouldn’t listen to myself just after I’ve woken up. So now, small as a fairy, I sit on a shelf, viewing the world from another standpoint. And, for now, I will remain at peace.

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