Friday, February 1, 2013

6 am thought dumping on a Friday morning the month you turn 37.


A corner of the world where I can lay my thoughts down end to end and see if they make any sense. A place where if I close my eyes hard enough and wish long enough, when I open my eyes the world around me is a reflection of my perception of life. A place where there are no walls and the echoes of my story can go on forever.

Doesn't matter, because as of late I am that cartoon character that opens her mouth and nothing comes out. Like in Beetlejuice, I keep attempting to form words but before I can get them out, a zipper is slapped on my mouth.

It's okay. There is nothing in there anyway. No sound. Just air. Just silence.

The thoughts stay cooking in my brain: maybe I'm too broken. God could not have intended me to be this way. I have too much hope-ironically, a hopeless hoper. I am accepting too much difficulty-my happiness is a fraud. My life is a fraud.

It's a horrible feeling to think your life is a mistake. MY life is a mistake. Surely, no higher power would create someone so bumbling in her decisions, surely I am a broken, surely this can't be the purpose of me. I have wasted all my best decisions on the wrong decision. I have wasted time. I have wasted love. I have wasted my self.

If I am a human becoming...what am I becoming? Am I allowing life to happen to me or am I making choices?

6 am thought dumping on a Friday morning the month you turn 37. Better done after breakfast at least, but perhaps less authentic.

I may not be perfect, but I am at least authentic. I am the person I can be. Know how to be. I am a lovable person.

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