At twenty-five, I realize I am at the age where a woman's maternal sensitivity should kick in. I am enamoured with babies and small children, without the longing to be a mother. I grow older, wondering if this will change. If I will become more of what a woman is supposed to be...
Other than that-- another year is coming to a close. I haven't accomplished enough.
I hope that before I die I write more than a blog entry.
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