Derangement

Writing is to me a form of letting loose on "paper". There is so much that happens in my life that I cannot speak out, or put to any logical understanding from my heart. Its a creation faux pas if you will or maybe just an upbringing one. This post is very raw, I'm not going to bother to redo the language or flower the phrases, I'm just putting down thoughts as they come to me. Its been a stressful month. One thing after another without room to breath, very many times I felt I needed that room where people go to and scream their lungs out. Yes, I really need that place. But most of all I just need that place that people go to that is just for them. A safe shelter with a soft landing and all the chocolate and wine I can put down. Lord knows I really need that place. I feel sandpaper-ed with no visible shine appearing. I'm no smoother, probably even worse right now. A lesson in life: You don't always get what you give and people don't always give what they say they will either. Hard lesson learnt. But I'm still me, heart still big, mind still strong, my writing still alive.