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| P Skew P |
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2003-06-11 - 12:03 p.m.
I Don't Like This Thought <:( 06-11-03 @ 12:03 pm EDT It just struck me... I was eleven when I started seriously writing... I was eleven when I felt I stopped growing up... Today, I am still an adult child... Today, I feel the only important part of me left is my writing... It CAN'T be...the thing I rely upon the most? The one thing that makes me happy? The one part of me I can at least tolerate without feeling disgusted, even if I don't always think it's any good? The one thing I can control? The one thing I'm at least a little bit good at? The ONE part of me that I can at least have some faith in? That can't be it, can it? I don't like where this thought is taking me...I want it to be something else. I want Eleven to mean something else. Something a lot worse but not nearly as bad. I want it to be something different. *cries* Please let me just be jumping at shadows. I always do anyway; let me just be overreacting. Please. Let me feel stupid about this in the evening.
I am yesterday; I know tomorrow. <- If This Happens ONE MORE TIME... - I Still Think I Should Be A Crab -> |