My life thus far has been like an enthusiastic (though perhaps not entirely original) story told with a hopeful energy that begs to be loved and makes the not-so-novel-ness of it slightly novel. The heroine of my story never seems to be aware of the moral until loooong after the fact and keeps screwing things up with a gleeful unawareness that may have been endearing in CH. 3 but in CH. 27, is starting to become bothersome. And on top of *that* it seems that halfway through the telling (or, living I guess), she sees something shiny and gets distracted.
Translation: My stories are starting to irritate even me- with their ‘Hey! I learned a beautiful lesson! Again! Yes, it was the same one I learned last week but here it is again! Stay tuned next week because I bet you’ll never guess what’s coming!’. Bletch. I may give up the blog all together.
Maybe I'm just pissy I got scolded for my last entry.
But I'm not feeling pissy, really... I'm feeling all stupid happy. Again. YAY rediscovered peoples, life, liberty, pursuit of happiness... yadda yadda yadda. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with me? ARG!
Do du DO... I guess I shouldn't have smoked all those drugs in high school.
How do you just learn... to just *be*?
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