If thoughts were always typed…

In life. In love. In essence.

I think I’m a danger to myself. Yelling mean things at my core, shaming who I am, tormented by my own relentless voice.

Moments of pure joy.

Singing…singing all things.

I rip myself into a storm. I break my own heart, force myself into tears. Depression.

I romanticize my life. I think of my sweet love and our future. I think of past exchanges, timeless moments, happy memories.

I feel too much for others till it wears me thin…scraping my bones clean of any strength.

I think about bird.

I think about Boo.

I wander in and out of thoughts…like a squiggly line cutting through the straight edges of life.

I break out in song again and wiggle my hips.

Sometimes I don’t even think that I’m thinking at all.

I think about stress, then begin to stress due to the overwhelming life that is ahead of me and all the things I have to do and want to do, and should do, and what tom, dick, and harry think I should do.

I’m thinking about how you’re reading this and judging my lack of grammar and punctuation. That does not make me pleased but at the same time I don’t care.

You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone…yes that song is playing…well now it’s not anymore but you get the point…

Ramble on my friends.

A Million Thoughts and They're All About You

A Million Thoughts and They’re All About You (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

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