I have been so up and down lately and confused and guilty- so I wrote this while driving back from school and I have to get it down so I don’t forget it. It’s finally honest writing
I’m a woman of sense and sensibility, but my Lord I find myself crying at artwork for more than I let my heart work less than my mind which leaves me time after time with nothing to say… other than why it went astray and how it was doomed from the start and “My God! Why I can’t I listen to my mind like I do my heart?!” But though that would make life easier it would also be less fun, and I kind of get off on things when they become undone, which I hesitate to admit. But it those emotional fits, like when they say they’ll never love you again, that force you to put paper to pen and write like you’ve never written before. And I’d rather life be adventurous than boring, and I unfortunately find sin quite alluring which causes emotional breakdowns like nothing else yet still I find myself continuously putting sense on the shelf and wondering how long I can get by like. As if I’ll really find a good guy like that? I mean, that’s why this affair has been going on for so long even though it’s so blatantly wrong. It’s just that it’s not you or me it’s this need to feel free, as if in some past life I was chained to a wall and now I need to break free and experience it all! And it’s not a matter of time until it catches up to me- its caught up to me- I mean I see how you look at me, and it’s not the same. the only thing I have in common with myself these days is my name. And so I’m forced to ask how much time has to pass until a “phase” outlives its stay and now it’s just more kind of your day to day?