I find myself playing at something and yet nothing is the product. I gave up on the writing and dove into everything else just find a lot of depression. I found myself yesterday remembering how nice it was to let it out even when no one is reading.
A change is on the horizon, perhaps the biggest of changes and yet I lay in bed playing at something and preparing for nothing. These past months or entire year has fallen into place so nicely, a little too nicely and it makes me nervous as a stray caged cat. The boyfriend is perfect I still love to watch him wake up. This is the time I love him most when he opens his eyes and they look prehistoric in color and design. We are playing at something rather serious and I find myself thinking too old for my age. I think in recipes and yard furniture when I should be thinking in drive thrus and parties. An older friend recently told me I am far more mature then her, I just hope I haven’t grown up too fast.