See me, but do not look at me.

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I am a writer. I want you to see me, but I do not want you to look at me.

I want you to learn the contours of the letters that move my life, my soul, not the aging outlines of my face and body alone. Does that make sense? Mentally? Psychically? Emotionally? Philosophically?

I want you to understand the aches I feel beneath my skin through the words I use,…