(no subject)
it is a terrible habit of mine to want too much, yet accomplish little. i am the sort of person who feels perpetually overwhelmed with the details of life. how big is this number? how small can i pretend to be? i am at a constant state of undress, or so i feel. it is my greatest fear to disappear, though i cannot handle spotlights. what shall i do, then? i had an incredible opportunity to finish my book and possibly shelve it someday. i battle intense tendencies of secrecy, too heavy to let go. i could never give myself away in such a manner. even if i pretended to call it fiction, it would be difficult to swallow that lie, even for those who do not know me or my details. i have been told that i have a deep understanding of human frailty. i don't know how true that is. as strong as i want to be, i have had a big life full of many broken things. i am better for this. i choose not to play the unlucky card anymore. though i have not done any note-worthy things with myself, i do pay attention, always. i do look into people's eyes and feel their lies. it can be difficult to smile, but we all do it. i notice this. i have accepted that we are all monsters, all assholes and fools and impassioned lovers, decidedly cynical exes, best friends. it is cheesy, for sure, but necessary to realize your biggest enemy never wanted to be. that girl regrets breaking your heart. i will never win an award for the way i have decided to live my life, but i am learning to be okay with this.