I’m struggling for words.

It’s been so long since I’ve been able to push out anything remotely coherent. I’ve started therapy to try and work out some issues, maybe she can fix this writers block I’ve seemed to carry for years. Why would anyone ever want to be a writer? The imaginative and creative process is such a fickle thing. It’s quite destructive. I feel like shit when I don’t write and I write like shit when I do write. It’s so turbulent in my head. I wish I could explain. Although, I’m not some special flower, there is someone out there who knows exactly what I feel. So anyway, I guess the point is that I wrote a tiny little blurb. It’s about love or something stupid like that. Enjoy. Or don’t.
Your kisses, they taste different. They no longer breathe a world of life into my soul. They no longer set fire upon my skin. I don’t feel it anymore. That spark, the ignite. This may not be a bad thing. They taste like a fresh morning, a new start. They taste like sunshine after a rain storm, clean and lovely. The fever is gone, the rush, the vivid flames. Now it’s replaced with a safeness, a comfort. Oh how I love the flavor of 2 am conversations, of waking up slowly to find each other under the sheets. It’s a new feeling, a new journey that I’m finding to be a delight. Please, kiss me more often, I crave that new sensation. Your kisses, they taste different.

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Titles are over rated anyway

I spend my days thinking of all the ways I can escape the current life I am living in. I always hear ‘if you don’t like something, fix it or change it.’ It’s a constant preaching that I experience. How does one go about changing everything if they are so unsure about all that they do? Tell me, please. I really would love to know. I’ve been searching and have yet to figure anything out. 

We all are now aware that I want to be a writer. It’s the only thing I think I am even remotely good at. I’ve thought about pursuing an education in Zoology. I’ve always liked animals better than people. Plus, I’d love to work with predators, since some of the people I know are scarier in mindset than Tigers or Wolves. Don’t take offense to that. I’m only giving you the reverence some of you deserve. 

I’ve even thought about becoming a psychiatrist or psychologist. I would love to sit on a soft, plushy chair with a notebook and listen to someone spill their guts for me. I hear the crazy rate for that career is kind of high. I’m already crazy enough, listening day in and day out to someones problems might drive me to actual insanity. The field still fascinates me. 

So I find myself still stuck in a dead end job after six years of slaving away for a company who is probably going to hell when it’s all said and done. I have other skills. I could do other jobs, I am just comfortable in what I do. I feel safe. I am terrified to take a jump into something different. I literally get so nervous when I even think about leaving my job. What if I fail? I shouldn’t be this scared, right? I’m just being silly, right?

I’m twenty-four years old and I am so done with everything. I don’t have a backup plan. I don’t even have a current plan. I should probably form some kind of plan, don’t you think? Where do I go from here? I’ll be twenty-five in five months and I have yet to do anything mildly important with my life. I want to be free, I want to be adventurous. I want to quit my job, pack up my shit and leave, but that only happens in books and movies. It isn’t real and in this economy it is virtually impossible.

So until I grow some courage, I’ll stay in my unhappy state and keep pouring my woes into my work. 

Easy is Over Done.