Sunday, December 19, 2010


Ever since I was young I have made up names for books in my head... the title is very important; the way it sounds, feels, tastes.. what picture it brings to mind... a title can make you imagine the whole story in a few words. When I was much (much) younger I use to write.. stories, poems... diaries. I still journal every once in while.. when I am upset or worried. But I haven't let my imagination take control in a long time. Not at least in the form of a story. Its one of those many things that get put on the back burner. People say when you are a artist or a writer you can't help but do your passion. Create. I say that isn't true. Then I would be told I must be depressed.. I'm not depressed. I am tired. Worried. Overwhelmed sometimes. I feel like am always waiting ... and believe me I HATE that. Because there is only NOW; and I am more than aware of this. I KNOW what I need to do. I WANT to do it. I just feel frozen... putting everything in order of SOMEONE elses importance... This isn't living... But ..... so overwhelmed!! I don't need anything explained to me... I understand... I am quite bright, regardless of what you or anyone else for that matter may see, or think. I need.......... to be understood. That strangely enough helps... me ... move. That might sound odd... But I never claimed to be normal.

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