There just never seems to be enough of it. I have so many stories I want to share and feel the need to share. There are so many things that I am afraid that if I do not write them down they will be forgotten. There seems to be this awful paradox between writing about all the things that have happened in my life and just letting them go so that new things can happen.
I am not sure I want to dwell on every moment of my past. Let me rephrase. I DO NOT want to dwell on every moment of my past. But so many of them have helped me become the strange person that I am, that I feel they need to be shared. Some funny, some are sad, and some are just out and out strange. If nothing else, it can be use in a psychology textbook later on as “warning signs” or “things NOT to do”. Regardless, I love them all. I want to make sure that when I do tell them that they are not just haphazardly thrown on a page.
So now it’s about making the time to do it. Not just a brief note right before I go to bed ( I promise there will still be plenty of those), but a time that I will take to make sure that when I write “the big stuff” that it is done with care. There is a balance that exists. I know it. I just have to find it.