Undone

I do bad things. I do them to people, I do them to myself. I just do. I’m not a psychologist, I dabble, but i’m not certified, but i know i’m not always right.

But I know what hurts. Pain registers in my brain, whether i’m dealing or receiving. I know i deal it a lot to red. I know she’s upset because i’m treading down a road she hates to see anyone go down. I know that she loves me, and that she just wants the best for me.

These are things I know.

I know that i say things sometimes that i don’t mean. I often don’t think before i speak, even in writing. I know i’m captain bring down, and with how many people are screaming at me to grow up and not be so self involved… but … i mean do they have classes for that kind of thing? My therapist has been telling me that i need to grow a back bone and stand up for myself… and that i’m a rug.

I really don’t know which is true. They conflict in the upmost ways.

I find myself changing, daily. especially in what i want in life. I’m not sure which road i’m going to go down, or when or why, but i try to keep my options open. I don’t like to burn bridges… I really don’t.

I guess i’m a floater. I’m not defined, and i dont liek to be.

and i don’t like to be controlled. Or told what to feel.

And I screw up, I make mistakes, I make bad choices. I don’t know what else to say but, it’s how it happens. You learn, you live, and you move on. You can’t agonize over the past. Well.. you can, but….i’ve done that, and it’s just no fun.

And why does it matter if i become famous as a writer? I aspire to Emily Dickenson levels. She wasn’t even a socialite when she was alive, she didn’t leave her house after her first year at college.

Derringer Meryl [something ruther] Out