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June 1st, 2011
Confined space devoid of places to hide, seeking refuge in my creation du jour, my only quiet corner. Pursued by conflict and strong emotion, I'm caught by the foot, unwilling, and dragged back into strife. Discordant storm unrelenting, straight into my bow. I have been here before, and it feels horrible. Stay centered says zen, but the mind is deafened and blind. Restraint is broken, tied down no longer, and the river of sadness overflows. In a fit of rage, my dominant hand pierces the brush...