I sat down to write out an idea on a fresh piece of paper and the first word I wrote was a mistake. I was thinking of one word and wrote a different one, and there it sat in ink.
My first reaction was to tear out the page and start over as if it had never happened. Then the guilt set in. In my mind was the tree that was chopped down for my writing pleasure and the remaining blue lines that would forever be blank in a landfill. They would never know the joy of bearing the burden of someone’s thought. So, in guilt I kept the page and crossed out the word. That did not help. It bothered me that the page was no longer fresh and organized, but I had decided to go ahead and use it anyway even though the word was now glaring at…
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