Tuesday, August 9, 2011

When I was young, I used to lie in bed and reach out my arms. I wanted to know what it was like to feel a person beside me. That’s what I write about, the universal reaching of the human race. Sometimes, we find skin. Sometimes, we don’t. Writing helps to express the joys and struggles that come with both. Perhaps, therapy isn’t found in an office with a doctor but on stage with characters, healing in the turn of a page rather than the swallowing of a Prozac.

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