path

Maybe I rush into things because I know that they will be over soon. I want to experience everything I can before everything disappears. Maybe I am just continuously ripping off the band-aid, so to speak. Let's get this over with.

There is an underlying discomfort I've felt for most of my life. I can't place it. I physically feel uncomfortable in my clothing. I feel like I am being strangled and suffocated. And my hair has never felt like an accurate reflection of who I am. What would an "accurate reflection" even be? A mohawk? Dreads? An out-of-control fuzz ball? Perhaps I place too much importance on outward appearance. Huh. THAT'S a thought.

People project instead of connect. I know I do. I can't wait to get over myself so I can start to get into someone else. I've decided that I will always be a dead end (in the best possible way), so I might as well discover other paths. You might be my path; I might walk all over you.

We imprison ourselves. It's time we introduce ourselves to the key.