Am I the product of a problem that I couldn’t change?
Got his eyes, got her hair,
so do I get their mistakes?
The first post in my journal says:
I keep dreaming I’m beating the shit out of a vampire with a baseball bat. He won’t ever die. I think I am using the wrong tools.
For some reason, I felt the need to share that. You are so welcome. 🙂
In other news, I was sitting awake the other night, searching my brain for the slightest inclination as to why I’m writing this stupid story I’m not even into, and as it often does, my messy mind found me somewhere in the middle of a memory from my childhood…and it hit me–I have a story I need to tell. Finally! It’s been a minute. I’ve been hoping and praying for such a sign. Something. Anything. And so it begins, the race to see if my fingers can type the gifts my daydreams have given before my mind forgets them entirely. Wish me luck.