no to normalcy, really.

I am perfectly happy, I am perfectly sad. I desperately want things I can't have. I talk back too much, I keep my mouth shut too often. I want to be boyish today, I don't care tomorrow. I'm always over-thinking, I don't take anything seriously enough.

Again, I am contradictions. I no longer make sense to mother.

I will change bits by bits, inevitably, but I think I'm fine like this. Imperfect, of course. But alright.

And I can't change too much and still feel like me. I won't let things pass me by for the sake of a "secure life." I'll examine the little things, like sketches and kittens, and the big things, like the universe and abstract thinking. I can't be a wife or mom, I'm most certainly unfit. And I don't want that, anyway, could everyone kindly stop trying to convince me that they know better?

Exploration, stillness, imagination, observation, creation, dissection, cacophony, silence, colors, greyscale, everything, nothing.