Sometimes I feel so stupid and dull and uncreative that I am amazed when people tell me differently.
I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart. I am. I am. I am.
I am sure there are things that can't be cured by a good bath but I can't think of one.
God, how I ricochet between certainties and doubts.
I dream too much, work too little.
Yes, there is joy, fulfillment and companionship but the loneliness of the soul in its appalling self-consciousness is horrible and overpowering.