I am pretty sure I was born bad. I try every day to be better but sometimes my mind is filled with so much negativity. I want to get along with everyone. But I can't. I feel like this is a part of me that is wrong, damaged. Should I try to love even the pieces of shit? There are reasons why they are the way they are, just as there are reasons why I am sometimes bad.
I'll always be this woman clicking away in the middle of the night.
I can't write about anything anymore but where I am and where I was. New York and California. The deserts and swamps in between. The short bus bed where I once laid down my head to rest and threw away all of my dreams. The campgrounds and dirt roads and motels and truck beds. The painted cliffs, the dunes, the oceans, the lakes and rivers. My favorite words are creek and trail and grove.
I used to have so much to say. Now I just want to take my clothes off at the beach and paint with sand. I want to kiss everyone I love on their cheek and mouth.