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08/17/2004 12:09 a.m.

it's grown increasingly difficult to write now that i am happy. i hate that word. it is so ambiguous and in the air. happiness to me means being vulnerable. it means letting your guard down and letting people in. i hate such things. i really don't know why i build a wall around me, but i really don't think it's too hard to be taken down. i know few who have done it. and those few make me so happy, making this entire rant full circle. i like to claim happiness without the strings attached. rather, i would like to assert that i am not sad and fully in control of my emotions (how rare, i know). i cannot, however, take full responsibilty for such feelings and that in itself is frightening. it leads me to believe that i am incapable of my own happiness and will eternally depend on others to support me in that way. i am not sure how much of a burden this is on those who will be carrying it, i just hope they are up for the job. in return i would love to be the bearer (is that a word?) of their happiness, though sometimes i question my capability. what i am trying to say is, i want to write and i want to be happy and i can't seem to have both. that's frustrating. my muse seems to be malcontent, as in, the act of being discontent is in itelf my muse, which is very depressing. i just need to move passed this stage of immaturity as a teenage writer. not everything that is worth writing about is sad. i guess i just need to keep that in mind.

kudos, lauren.


I am currently Cool
I am listening to the moldy peaches