I have a tendency to make more of things than they may be. [If you listen close, you can hear the sound of a collective sarcastic gasp from anyone that knows me at all…]

Still, when it comes to matters of the heart, of emotion – feeling tends to be stronger than practicality. Particularly when it relates to rejection…

There is cognitive dissonance which exists when a writer ceases to write. For any period of time, not participating in one’s passions can cause a myriad of reactions, one of which is the rationalization that “I don’t have anything worth saying”.
It devalues that which it once held as highest esteem – most cathartic and noble of efforts. It is a subversion of reality.

I understand that God made me a person who feels the feels. All of them. And that I can feel big.

Rejection gets to me. Slices deep and separates tissue and leaves a permanent mark. Side effect of the caring big part.

I wish it wouldn’t.

Because I’m finally not sorry (for being me)

I am a person with abundant levels of emotion.   I’m not always up and down (though that happens; I’ve yet to meet a human who doesn’t qualify as emotionally layered – with their own pattern of transferring said feelings), but there are seasons where the level is more consistent. And there are seasons where change …


Every day is 0:00:00.    It always starts clean. New. Untouched.It starts over.  So often, I worry that I’ve wasted each of those ticking seconds.     When I could have done so much more by the time I see 23:59:59. And it’s an insulting lie – to everything I did do that day. To everyone with …