And so it begun
I finally realized that there is a better way to put my
thoughts in the piece of paper than to sit there in front
of an empty page with a pen and try to come up with things
to write about. Duhh!! Well, here I am a free creature of
NYC attached at the hip with so much shit that it hurts to
I think therefore I am or is it the other way around...who
is to say...I am glad that I am here and I can let my
thoughts flow at its insane pace with its ups and downs.
Sure...laugh if you will but I have a feeling that this
diary will open up some doors into id.
Slightly philosphical, slightly psychotic and ever so
hopeful to regain sanity in this crazy, crazy world of fake
So, where do I stand as of today. I am a 20something year
old professor of life,who apparently makes her living by
working her amazing 10-6 (weekends free) job, lives on the
UES in NYC.
Had a nightmare today...a woman mostly resembling my mother
was beating me up and here is a kicker, I had a man
protecting me from her...I woke up screaming with my heart
racing and a dry throat, scared to fall asleep again. What
does that mean? Are we responsible for our own dreams or
is it just a mere reflection of our mind dealing with all
the crap of everyday life?