It's funny the things you'll admit on the internet. Things I won't even admit to my friends or family I'll openly discuss on here. I don't even know who reads this. Hello out there. Do random people stumble across this online just as I stumble upon theirs? I like reading blogs of women who live in big cities and post pictures of themselves in great clothing. Those are my favorite. I guess the only reason you divulge personal information on such an impersonal stage is because you hope somebody you know will read it and quietly file the information away and continue to know you, all the while knowing this one extra bit of information. You hope that this person somehow has some new insight into your personal life, some new understanding of why you are the way you are and that they will silently acknowledge this information and appreciate you all the more. But maybe that's just me.
I opened up a bottle of wine tonight. I wanted to drink the whole thing but I stopped at one glass.
They say you should write your feelings down to stave off depression. Well I've been doing this my whole life. My first journal was a story about a mouse. I wanted to be a writer. I have journals and journals full of thoughts and yet I feel the same.
I worry that every time I transpose the letters "a" and "i" in the word "said" that I am dyslexic.
I worry that my grandparents will die and it will send me over the edge and I will fall into a deeper sadness--and I won't be able to come back out. I feel like I'm teetering on the edge sometimes.
I want to be a flight attendant.
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