Brainshambles

This girl is a real live wire.

This girl needs to say whoa on the ice cream.

This girl needs Friday to come, better yet, Saturday to come. So everything can run its course.

This girl, this one right here, misses creating. Even after hours of dreadfully tiresome, hard and stressful work.

This girl misses painting under dim light in a dark bedroom, listening to mellow tunes.

This girl misses sitting at her desk, her studio, hovering over a bright screen making lovely random pictures out of seemingly nothing nothings.

Perhaps these little missings…these little musings…are how THIS girl is choosing to cope with the immense stress of being perfect. Perfect worker, perfect bride, perfect daughter, perfect friend. Because while many will say they don’t expect perfection, they do. They all do, even if they don’t know it. And I do not fault them. Because they believe themselves. If you truly believe what you state to be true, than your statements must either be valid, or they are subconscious and (most likely) uncontrollable misinterpretations of reality.

So back to being perfect. I’d really just like to be happy. I continue to work on this goal. Day by day, or I should say…evening by evening. Because it’s during the night when the rest of my time zone is fast asleep–when I can’t seem to catch up. I love eating breakfast, it’s my absolute favorite part of the day (even on work mornings). Because by this time, even if I haven’t slept the night before, I am fully awake–justifiably, and I have an untouchable routine (if even for only 20 minutes). This tiny, quiet little block of time in the morning is mine. Nobody can take it. I breathe. I prepare. I nourish. And then I’m off.