There is something strangely intimate about sharing my poetry with others. I feel like I am exposing a very vulnerable part of me to complete strangers. A sort of masochistic exhibitionism that is filled with fear and excitement. Fear of being rejected or laughed at and the anticipation of that rejection. Does anybody else feel this way? I put myself out there on various degrees (depending on what I write) but I’m always afraid someone will out me. Scream that I have no business writing and should be embarrassed to even share said poetry. Why do I do it? I guess I hold on to the fantasy that someone out there will relate. That someone will read something and feel like they aren’t alone in this world. There’s a side of me that wants to put into words life as it is and not in a romanticized way. Real life. Complicated life. Dirty and grimy life. Not the sugar-coated, bleached out version we are forced to swallow on a daily basis. Let’s face it, life is hard and it is beautiful and I wouldn’t want it any other way!

– amora

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