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shhhhh
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sometimes, it'd been easier to have my enemy reach inside of me and rip my guts out infront of my eyes. hate would have numbed me.
all the thing buried under my skin, some prickly, some vacuums, some silent out of necessity...as open as people think i am, blunt and honest...raw...no one knows me, no one. ever. no one knows everything i live with, every piece that makes me. not even close. i probably seem very weird to people, all of them, i feel weird around all of them. id like to think it is part of my charm.
what ive done, what ive lived, what ve failed...not my family, not my husband, and due to a purposefully bad memory, sometimes not even me.
these things they drive me, i do turn them into tools to move me forward rather than stagnate my soul, or paralyze me...for the most part. I have character flaws like anyone. weakness and selfishness. a large part of me is a child of Bacchus (that does not mean alcoholic (but im drunk now captain!) btw/define broader)
i like laughter, pleasure giving and receiving, sin and innocents beauty and finding the beauty where it is difficult to do so. its just the way it has to be. and it isnt a bad world to live in. the people around me seem to enjoy itslight off of me as well.
and i type all of this out for selfish reasons, purposeful distraction for myself. such is the human.
shhhhh.
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