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... that when I write, my ideas transform into these clunky, unwieldy, convoluted long constructions that never seem to have a point and hardly make for good impact?
Also, why is it that I feel envious of more fortunate but infinitely less talented musicians, and yet seize up whenever the reins are placed directly into my hands?
Also, why is it that I feel envious of more fortunate but infinitely less talented musicians, and yet seize up whenever the reins are placed directly into my hands?
