i feel dry.
and i know its my fault.
i am twenty years old and forget to eat the right things, take my vitamins and drink water.
i am twenty years old and i forget who i belong to.
it starts out as a feeling. a feeling of free and young and wild, but not the bad wild. your running and spinning and savoring each and every piece of life. your making choices and choosing decisions and your spinning and life is spinning. the world is at your fingertips and your not taking too much time to think about too much.
but pretty soon the spinning stops. and the sweet gasps of new turn into the mundane. and you keep coasting. until, the gas in your car runs out. and all the life you just experienced without pausing, is now the hand slapping you in the face.
i am twenty years old and the fire in my heart is now down to embers.
and it's a place i have never been before. and it's a ditch i'm trying to dig myself out of. and it's a hand creeping out of my heart, reaching for something to believe in. and it's a hunger felt more in my soul, than in my actual body.
i boxed my abba in pretty good inside the cage of what i would get around to thinking about next.
and now its next, and all i long is to feel the love of the creator's arms wrapped around me.
all i have to do is give the paintbrush back to him. he is the picasso to my bare march.
i am twenty years old and i do not know how to let give.
