ghost writer

Listening to the fire trucks and watching the fireworks from the deck, wishing I could make things work out better. Knowing already what I want to do, have to do, will come back as a ghost  if I don’t do in this lifetime –  is write and illustrate my own book. FFS, I need to get my ass in gear. I always have a bunch of stories in my head, and what would really be perfect is if I could get past my fear and write them down. Sadness is currently extra distracting me, and an undercurrent of despair keeps sucking me down.

I’ve been biking, and eating well, and focusing on doing all the things that make me feel better. No distractions are working, and I finally have to admit that I feel heart and soul crushed like it will never get better. My life feels so empty and painful, and it’s not helping to see fire trucks everywhere – another reminder of disastrous dating, and old wounds, and emotionally unavailable men who only offer sex – even though they try to wrap it up differently.

Thanks to that last dude, I discovered that I need to explore my sub side a bit – too bad men scare the living shit out of me, and that damn fireman was the only dude that I’ve ever met that I trusted to tie me up and explore that side. He was also the only guy I’ve ever brought to this house – which I regret, as I now have that energy haunting me here. Not that it matters, as he seems to be haunting me everywhere. I’m glad he doesn’t know.

Ghost Town – Cheap Trick



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