now that i have my beads ordered and there is nothing i can do until the order gets here, my mind turns back to the photo gallery and what i'm going to put up next. likely webcam pics. i lost a couple of years, but i still have many many sets of pics. it's past stuff, but it represents many years of my life.
i went back today and read the story/book i wrote out of the hospital, about the hospital. it took me back, but not violently or in a lingering way. i think i may be able to go back and edit it. even though i've lost a lot of memory from that era, i can still piece things together, expand upon journal entry explanation. thing is, i don't know that it would help anyone. with my poetry, it was all about sharing it and helping someone else with my words. my other written work has to meet up to that. at least for me to share it. much has been written that will never be shared because it is nothing but destructive. and since i have no poetry to work with . . . blah blah blah. once i wanted to be a writer. and for a brief time i was a professional one. but i couldn't stick with it. i've wanted to be so many things, you'd think i'd just pick a couple and do it instead of bitch about it on here.
"when the fear is strong enough to hold its own weight, then you know it's going to spread around"