sometimes i am so inexplicably sad. i don't even know where the despair comes from. maybe it's not sadness--because, let's face it, sometimes i confuse my emotions--i could just be overwhelmed by the creativity of mankind and confusing that with sadness. i am filing through so many books right now (post to come) and it makes me think: i want to write something of worth i have so many things to say i wish i could find the time to say them i wish i had the courage to write what i really think but how do i write that without people hating me or would they love me for my honesty. those kind of thoughts.
sometimes i even think i choose sadness. but maybe it chose me.
despite it all, it's nice, however, to FEEL so strongly about so MANY things.
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