this journal is brashly, unapologetically, wholly about me. my prurient nature, my wayward thoughts, my restless and blurry and delicious and uncertain hours. with as much soul and candidness as i can muster. i've created few of these since age fourteen, and with each one, the self-censorship diminishes a bit more.
i feel as if i am brimming, always producing and hoarding more love inside me. professionally, there is no release. giggles, ivory elephants, rainbows, feathers, bohemian, glitter, melodrama, fingers entwined... none of it moves me like i know it should. i will search this world honestly, searching for something deserving of the volumes of love i know i have within me. i promise to find something i love doing.
my writing about writing is half cracking up at myself for being a twenty-one year old girl who can't seem to think about much else. in the midst of my vices and plans and doubts and routines, somehow there is always this.
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