(no subject)

[judy_o_green]

I don't write for the answers. I don't try to talk about my plan. I write because this is what I want to be doing. Sometimes I want it more. Sometimes I want more than I am able to be. I participate because it is what I want. I put myself out there so that maybe I'll be understood. But maybe that isn't by anybody else. This is for me. This declaration, this work, this story, this unfolding. I want to be observed. I get lonely. I am lonely. But I'm not. I'm amazingly empowered. To say it stupid. Even my yin and my yang have a yin and a yang. I feel like there are a lot of people out there who are normal and inspire me. At times I hope I'm just a victim of my own immaturity. I know I'm a victim of my own stupidity. But even that, can by another symptom of the same. I want to lay myself out, but I don't want to be told anything. Not by anyone. On the one hand, I am setting myself up for greatness, but on the other, it is a long fall that I see to be going after as well. I am blindsiding myself. I am of good humour as I am writing this down. I'm a confessional-priest's worst nightmare. I want to tell and talk about everything. All the mundane, all this, that it profane. I want to unburden my soul. I project what I want to see. I see me, on you, and I know I do, but I don't see you as well as you are probably looking at me. I'm lost in this head. And I am a little scared that something real-bad might happen before I can get it out. It is hard to be optomistic. Really. I would rather be the depressive self that I understood. Keeping myself afloat, really rockin' where I'm goin'. It is hard. And I am still such a child. Its hard to be okay with that kind of information, that kind of what of thinking, that side of my thoughts. There are so many people in here, there is so much that I want and that I carve and craft for myself. I don't know what is real most of the time. I don't know who wants what. Or do I really want anything? I might just be a model of myself. An imitation of life that I have fashioned. All these people seem to be real. But they are usually talking about drama or personal connection in their life. I think that is one of those big things why people feel "grown up". They make deliberate familial connections and then they have coleagues and they see that way of being. I don't connect into the world. I'm pretty happy with that right now. And to be honest, I hope it isn't my last step of retreat. I think I'm still pulling back into my shell, because its a new house, and I don't have to move for a while, until I come back out. And I will. And maybe they I'll seek these connections, these deep personal feelings that people have for one another. I don't have much with anyone. I have friends, but after a while, I still get worried about what that means. The value that I put on something may alter and/or shift for someone else, the other person, who has their priorities rearranged. And then where will I be? Having banked on someone that I considered a [gag me] True Friend. [We're just using the word here.] I'm trying not to worry about it, when it comes up, it will. So, I have patience. I know I say I don't, but that is about everything else.

I guess this clarification just wants to find a home. I just want to find a home. But even though I put this out there, and as much as it does, it has nothing to do with you.

Anyway, I'm funny.

Remember that of me at any rate. Take that. My being funny, as reason enough to ...

do it for anything

>eyes rolling

whatever, now. ta!