it was intentional...

I think I probably have about 15 blogs.  That's gotta say something about me.  They seem to all start out as a playce to bare my innermost self, to play withe words, to leave off punctuation     .

But then i forget them.  I forget to be smart enough, creative enough, witty enough 

for myself.

my standards.

i'm never what i wanted to be.

but i think i might like who i am... for the most part, at least.

And that's saying a (whole heckuva) lot as i remember looking in the mirror and vowing to never pull back my hair because I looked like a boy.  I remember despising every fibre of myself when I stood silently under their hateful, judging eyes.  I was such a sad child.  Everyone thought I was shy, but I think I was really just sad.  and scared of being hated.

Now I can feel it better, like a cold, off-blue wave creeping toward me.  Sometimes I can manage to jump as it hits, floating over its surface; keep breathing.  other times i can't jump high enough.  Most of my childhood was spent drowning... and no one knew; not even me.