I have been working on my book all morning. I am in the home stretch now and it feels surreal. These experiences do not feel like my own and I am petrified to have it be successful. I feel so ....something. It almost feels like I have schemed to do dope all day, made all the necessary preparations, lied to who I had to lie to, did what I needed to do and now it's just me and the beast. I should feel ecstatic, but I feel a little sad, a little liberated and an unnerving sense of identifiable fear of what, I don't know.
Nothing has frightened me more than the reality that I could be better than I ever thought and do what I never thought I could. This is not a fish for validation or even kind words, thoughts or feedback, I detest those things because I m so arrogant, however, I need to get it away from me due to my own poor digestion for such things.
My God, the life I have lived so far is........well, ambiguous in it's concern for my lack of wanting life and has afforded me one that could not have dreamed and that is saying something.
There is no point, no funny line for you to catch, no purpose to serve other than my own today. Maybe tomorrow will be an informative blurb about fashion, rants, recipes or judgement, but for today, I am scared, elated and not ok with those things but perhaps can be ok with them. What choice do I really have?
