A friend of mine wrote today. A warm and wonderful email checking in and hoping to see me soon. She mentioned reading the blog and that I seemed "up and down with work and love". What? Me, up and down? My life is great! And then I remember / realize / come to terms with the fact that I indulge in sadness and shout it from the mountain top. I like feeling strongly and I like the heavy and thick emotional quality of sorrow. I like having an important, private experience and carrying it about my day- just throwin on some old thing cause I just don't care or moping through the produce section daring anyone to smile at me. I like sitting at my desk and staring out the window or maybe even laying on my bed and staring out the window. Oh, the drama! Most importantly, I like to document these potent mournful feminine feelings through writing and sewing and telling my sister all about it. I used to keep my thoughts contained within my journal. If you were to sneak a peek you'd think I was chronically depressed and hated every one of my boyfriends. I never wrote when I felt good. I didn't need to. Now this blog has become my journal. Does it seem like I hate my boyfriends and cry all day? Does it seem like I love my boyfriends and cry all day? I should strive for a bit of balance. I should let you know that along with feeling isolated and wishing I had someone to kiss, I also feel important and incredibly creative and content. Like you, I am a mix. I am happy with what I have and longing for more.

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