About Renea

Twenty-Nine Years and Counting

A million pages written. A thousand chances lost. Stories yearning to breathe.

“The unread story is not a story; it is little black marks on wood pulp. The reader, reading it, makes it live; a live thing, a story.” – Ursula K Le Guin

If the unread story could speak – then those I’ve written are crying; for they are all unread.

I reached for my journals and blew the dust off, watching it swirl and fall upon my trembling hands. “Just Breathe, Renea” – I reminded myself as I attempted to draw a full breath – just breathe. The ever present rattle of my lungs hissed as the air escaped from within. I could do this. I could not worry. I could not panic. I could not…fear. I could just…

Just Breathe… Just Breathe… Just Breathe…

Perhaps, I should try again tomorrow. Slumping against the shelf I place my heart back inside the wooden box with the faux book front; where it is safe once again.

Tomorrow, I’ll be brave. Tomorrow, I’ll lay my heart before you.

For God hath not given us the spirit of fear;

but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.

2 Timothy 1:7


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