Saturday, September 7, 2013


I've been doing some thinking. Like serious, crazy, sleep deprived thinking. And I just have one question. Why? Which leads into many, many smaller loaded questions.

Why am I surrounded by people who don't share any of the same interests?

Why is it so hard for me to do anything I enjoy? 

Why can't I find the time to finish a book? Writing or reading...

Why do I work a job I feel so despondent about?

Why don't I dress the way I really want? 

Why don't I try all those things I've pinned on Pinterest (I'm not frigging Martha Stewart, but a lot of things are easily accomplished)?

Why do I feel so uptight all the time?

Why? Why? Why?

I could come up with answers for these questions. But they wouldn't be true answers. No, they would just be excuses. Because, really, the only thing holding me back is me. I wonder why that is...

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