I’ve been hard at work every night trying to come up with something witty to say to you, but the best things I could think of were poignant at best, and sanctimonious at worst. A while ago my mother asked me how I managed to be funny, and the thing is…I’m not really. I just find myself in ridiculous situations and laughing seems to be my best solution. I painted vivid pictures for you with my trusty thesaurus. That formula worked well for a while, but I found that I used humor as an excuse to write. If I couldn’t be funny, then I didn’t want to write at all. But I can’t pick and choose my passion. I have to be faithful to it, hold steadfast to my dreams, and put action behind my words. Instead of looking for excuses to write (or not), I want reasons to write.
I write because I must. I write because I am happy, sad, hungry, angry, in love, and brokenhearted. I write because I am alive and it is the only endeavor that that has given any meaning to my life.
Life is about curves, not straight lines. We have to learn to adjust, be flexible, and ultimately be willing to take big risks. I could be less of who I really am and hide behind cheap laughs, or I can be honest, clumsy, and free. This is a diary, after all.
Currently Playing: Tegan and Sara, I Won’t Be Left