i've come to a few realizations lately.
1. i can't write when i'm this stable. i guess most of my writing previously amounted to bitching...a catharsis of frustration. loneliness, jealousy, depression, illness - every vice was temporarily numbed and liberated through writing. now that i'm happy, it feels so much more difficult to communicate what i'm feeling. i stumble, smile and blush a lot more when people ask how i'm doing. on paper though, i'm an idiot. a very happy idiot.
2. i always considered myself inherently vocal. whether i'm writing or not, just a glance at my face can usually betray exactly how i'm feeling. right now though, my life feels peaceful and private. this is necessary for a lot of different reasons, not the least of which is self-preservation. vague, i know. i thought this would be more difficult, but so far it's only proven to be artistically inhibiting. i don't mind pressing my eyelids tight and quietly letting the corners of my lips ache with a smile.
3. i couldn't possibly do any of this justice. but i'll try. later.
bwhap bwhap! lataz.
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