I am twenty one. I am so incredibly young, it's almost sickening to realize how much I don't know.
Wouldn't it be great if I could know everything I need to know now, and not later?
HA!
Such things aren't meant to be known until I've already made the mistakes.
My mind is a scattered mess.
I'm caught somewhere between a cynic and a saint.
Words seem to be the only expression I can exhale.
All of the inspiration for my artistic expression is overwhelming.
How can the troubled artist be too troubled?
Well folks, it's happening.
Numb.
I'm getting more and more numb and I can't seem to stop.
I want to quit, give up and throw in the towel.
But it's not like me to actually do it.
I am such a creature of habit.
It's practically impossible for me to fully accept defeat.
Life you're fighting pretty hard, but I'm still kicking.
Besides, I eat my spinach.
