i rarely think of this blog.
but then i do, with some chagrin.
this is where i hang my badly washed unmentionables to dry.
if you read this blog please don't share it with others, and for the love of God please don't share it with me!
these are the thoughts that need to exit, this is where i take my hamster for a jog.
late in the night, away from prying eyes.
it is a selfish, self indulgent avenue.
i almost return to that 12 year old self cramming bad poetry into a garish covered journal. dreaming that at 12 i had lived and had something to say.
i had so many words then but little thoughts or experience.
now i have more thoughts and experience, i have words, but i think it is my hands that are broken.