1. one woman's last ditch effort to cling with watery fingertips to the edge of a crumbling cliff's edge formed by 1981 infant-built defense mechanism, slinging all this crazy dark shit at the optimistic fury of new skin female self-advocacy, one thought I had this morning. Why all these dreams of bad guys, in bad fashion?

I was also thinking this morning on the treadmill about how I used to love writing about my emotional state on the Internet, and was wondering at which point did I feel as if I had grown out of doing that. Was there actually a point on a linear scale of my self-conceived growth line that I felt I HAD "grown out" of such a behavior, or did it softly fade into the ether of neglected personal activities. Well, whatever the case, prepare yourselves, unseen and modest audience, because I feel as if this neglected activity is deserving of some redux attention. What follows will be unsophisticated, pedestrian, dilettante psycho-speak, "not a girl not yet a woman" self-centered rhetoric but honestly at this point, wouldn't it be refreshing if everyone just started live journaling again like 12 year olds? I guess for me it would be, and because of this truth you will find me emo-journaling on this place, again, on a probably regular basis.

with love,