I know that this whole website interface I have going on is garbage and as much as I’d like to make it pretty, I equally would like to do anything else.
Charming, witty, funny, dreamy, screamy, honest, angelic, demonic, intuitive, fanciful, over-reactive, angry, sweet, ex-dope fiend, petulant, unsane, genius, idiotic, truthful to a fault, eiditic memory, beautiful, sad, melancholy, aloof, clingy, maniacal, suicidal, dancing, old-fashioned, fuckin weird, sesquipedalian, exuberant, anxious, bipolar, fertile yet sterile, ambiguous, impulsive, impetuous, artistic, conspiracy enthusiast, moody, non-trusting, musical, flighty, drinks like a machine, fear of rejection, prone to isolation, fearless, fearful, analytical, conservative yet liberal, irrational, enigmatic, low self-esteem projecting high self-esteem, positivity cheerleader for others, worried yet carelessly optimistic, sexy, sometimes argumentative, mentalist, book-lover, procrastinator, initiate, loving, people-watcher, people-pleaser, numb, first-class twerker, major depressive, feelings denier, possibly some kind of schizo, definitely bipolar, drawn to the esoteric like a moth to a flame, ferocious, tender, fierce, strong yet so very weak, prone to addictions, mediator and meditator, introvert, healer, lover and a fucking fighter….a paradox personified.
I AM A MOTHER AND A DAMN GOOD ONE.
WELCOME TO MY BLOG
I think I’ll rewrite what was here because it seems that I truly did veer off of a positive path with laughs, love and light…..and maybe I’ll redo that sentence too because it sounds a bit too polite.
I write, I always have. I suppose learning to read at the age of 3 was the catalyst because I was always in the upper types of reading and English classes and I don’t know about y’all but I can’t remember one year of school that an English teacher didn’t make us journal every day. I hated it. I didn’t hate because of the writing part I hated it because of the lying part. I just wrote the most bland crap about recess and math tests and my tooth that was abscessed…there was no way I was writing what was really going on and when I sit here and think about it…I do not recall it ever occurring to me to actually write about my feelings and things that were going on in real life which was a Pangea-sized difference than my school life. I was actually pretty happy being at school it was the going home part that made my skin crawl.
I guess you can consider this a journal written sans fear. Most of the things I write will probably rhyme because I have always enjoyed iambic pentameter flowing the poetry out of me with wispy tendrils blowing easily in a soft breeze as I stand in the grass under the tree of my happy place. (Another knee jerk reaction to just hold down delete because that sounded nothing like anything you would hear my mouth speak)….so if reading that soft crap was as hard for you as it was for me, have yourself not a worry because I don’t fucking write shit like that. I just write what I would write; making it rhyme and there’s where I find my type of sublime.