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    After a good nights sleep, I was awaken by the sound of a strong knock on my door.
    "Wake up Sandra," my mother said. "Breakfast is in an hour."
    I got up and sat at my desk, then pulled out my notebook and started writing.
    She ran away as fast as her legs could take her, I wrote. Even though her eyes were closed as she ran, Amelia had no fear of tripping because she knew every rock, tree, and root in the forest.
    I put my pencil down and reread what i had already wrote. Writing was my way out. No one else knew about my writing. They didn't have to. It was the only thing i had that was truly mine. When i write I'm in control and i can make the story go any way I want to. I don't exactly know where the ideas come from, but when I have a pencil in my hand, the ideas just flow out on paper. I'm in my own little world when I write. A world thats all mine. All mine.
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