A very kind soul has pointed out that I seem, perhaps, a little sad.
Well, that internet Heather has seemed a little sad.
I forget that these entries are viewed as a representation of myself and can be taken quite literally. Oftentimes I'm trying ideas on for size, and that's simply all it is. I do know that inspiration can strike when times are tough. I'm unsure of why this may be. I have only found that comfortability doesn't breed creativity. At least, in my experience. If you're too busy snuggling into your lover's armpit, that is the best and only thing in the world. Perhaps you'll pen love sonnets galore, but, more often than not, you'll be gazing into each other's eyes and ordering Thai food. Not saying that's a bad thing.
I've been thinking a lot about creativity and productivity. I've been wondering why I'm drawn to more solitary mediums lately. Wondering why so many authors seem so very sad. Wondering why, from day one, I'd been interested in being directed and molded, the muse and not the maker.
It's that last little query that has me going today. I've always been willing to place my trust into everyone else's hands. I do very little trusting of myself. And I think it's maybe the kernel of my unhappiness.
So that's what's going on here. I'm taking control and I'm taking charge. I'm asking for what I need, and maybe even sometimes for what I simply want. And I will not be sorry. This, to me, feels very bitchy to write. But it's not. It's absolutely not.
This is one of my very favorite days. Let's go out and live it, yes?
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