The Demise Of My Dignity.

Sometimes I hate writing because the written word is so personal and I feel more naked than I ever do. It can be just as embarrassing as full physical exposure. Red in the face. Heart drops in horror. The surprise. The demise of my dignity-- or-- its counterpart: the rise of my honesty and stained purity, still, uneasy.

I feel cheesy and foolish and audacious and snooty and uncharacteristic of myself. Like another version of myself. Almost me, but definitely not. Or, fully me, but not quite.

And thus, that is what a letter means from me.