I've been looking over recent posts as of late, and realized something rather funny. I sound hopelessly pretentious in so many of these, like I have the secret blueprints to life and I'm divulging them slowly in measured doses for your own good. One of my similar posts from over a year ago actually made me laugh out loud because of how know-it-all-ish I sounded. It made ME want to slap ME.
So today I'm going to try writing the truth, uninhibited and frank. Wish me luck. Fantasy and fiction I write well; reality is a horse of a different color!
I secretly love rainy days.
If socially acceptable, I would never wear shoes.
If possible, I would dry my hair in the sunshine every day.
Very few things make me happier than being the reason for someone else's smile.
Nothing cures me of sickness and sorrow like a good, nonsensical laugh.
I lie more to myself than to anyone else.
I crave pickles on a monthly basis
I hold everything in until there is no room to put it all.
Then I pick up a pair of boxing gloves and go at a punching bag until I'm sobbing uncontrollably.
My mother is my guardian angel
I often imagine my life as one big musical
I tend to pocket call people when I'm singing at the top of my lungs to the radio.
When I'm cooking, I dance and sing into a wooden spoon.
I'm inwardly afraid of what people think; not of what I'm doing, but who I've become.
I always look for meaning in my dreams; even the crazy, drug-induced ones. (legal drugs, that is)
There is this paralyzing fear that comes over me when I think of losing anyone else that I love.
I love going to a popular college hangout and watching people on awkward first dates.
I believe cooking and eating together can mend a broken family.
I secretly revel in awkward conversations.
My friends are my light; my family my armor.
I see bits of the future in my dreams.
I tell people I have no realistic goals for my future career, but all I want to do it write.
I secretly still believe I can write and publish books. Honestly. But I hate sounding naive, so I don't let anyone know it.
So today I'm going to try writing the truth, uninhibited and frank. Wish me luck. Fantasy and fiction I write well; reality is a horse of a different color!
I secretly love rainy days.
If socially acceptable, I would never wear shoes.
If possible, I would dry my hair in the sunshine every day.
Very few things make me happier than being the reason for someone else's smile.
Nothing cures me of sickness and sorrow like a good, nonsensical laugh.
I lie more to myself than to anyone else.
I crave pickles on a monthly basis
I hold everything in until there is no room to put it all.
Then I pick up a pair of boxing gloves and go at a punching bag until I'm sobbing uncontrollably.
My mother is my guardian angel
I often imagine my life as one big musical
I tend to pocket call people when I'm singing at the top of my lungs to the radio.
When I'm cooking, I dance and sing into a wooden spoon.
I'm inwardly afraid of what people think; not of what I'm doing, but who I've become.
I always look for meaning in my dreams; even the crazy, drug-induced ones. (legal drugs, that is)
There is this paralyzing fear that comes over me when I think of losing anyone else that I love.
I love going to a popular college hangout and watching people on awkward first dates.
I believe cooking and eating together can mend a broken family.
I secretly revel in awkward conversations.
My friends are my light; my family my armor.
I see bits of the future in my dreams.
I tell people I have no realistic goals for my future career, but all I want to do it write.
I secretly still believe I can write and publish books. Honestly. But I hate sounding naive, so I don't let anyone know it.
No comments:
Post a Comment