I don’t know anything anymore. I trudge on, I have all these damn emotions that I can’t seem to wrangle and it feels like they splatter on the people I love the most. I say the wrong things at the wrong time and I make it worse by rambling on about inane things. I wish I was the girl I used to be before I got married. I was strong and confident and more able to deal with all the shit in my head. I don’t see any of that girl in me anymore. I am afraid of everything. I hide behind this layer of giggles and stupid. I don’t know how to find the me I was or to become the me I am supposed to be. I don’t know what interests me anymore. I can’t create art. I crave it, but I don’t do it. Maybe fear of rejection or maybe fear of what my art will show me. I am 34 years old and I don’t know who I am. That is pretty pathetic really.

One thing that I do know is that I love. I don’t say it often enough and I ahahah don’t say it right, but I do. Fiercely. And loving that way can hurt. It sometimes makes me want to curl up in a ball and cry until it’s all out. I do need to find out who I am before that love can make more sense, but I will and then look out.