Wounded

Did you ever come across something you wrote years ago that suddenly defines who you are, decades later? Maybe even a photo of yourself or a keepsake from another time in your life? I recently came across a story I wrote while I was cleaning out a box in my bedroom. I have boxes of ‘stories,’ sitting around here and there, pieces I started and never finished, and pieces, like the one I'm going to talk about, that I wrote just because I needed a voice. It was written in 2000 from my dog’s point of view. Writing from his perspective let me reveal something that I was afraid to talk about in my own voice. It didn’t have a title at the time, but I have since called it Wounded, named after a song by Third Eye Blind. 

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