He used to be able to pn his thoughts into stories, shoving his insecurities under words so that they could blanket what he thinks beautifully. But such an ability is lost. No more can words do such wonder for him to soothe his insecurities and fears.
He lost his story.
He lost his words.
He lost his ability.
To write. To storytell. To describe.
To cast all insecurities to something he could rely on.
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