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  Oct 2017 DCgirl
Hannah
Entry ~
I know you're scared. You should be scared. You're taking a huge leap of faith leaving the only "home" you've ever known. But that home you built isn't four walls, and a solid tin roof. It's your soul. It's that thumping in your chest that keeps you awake at 2am. It's the memories you've stored, locked away tight behind steel bars, because god only knows if those bars weren't there those memories would hit you like the eye of a storm. Calm at first, sweet, but then painful, like shards of glass beneath your feet. And I know how much it hurts to leave. To walk away from so many unresolved things. To remove yourself from the lives of people you rely on, that rely on you. But part of living is knowing when to leave. It's knowing when your environment no longer suits the shell you're in. It's easy to tell when that chapter of your life begins. It starts with a slow depression easing its way in, and an unexplained restlessness. I know how much you fight it. The warning signs telling you it's time to go again. You are so afraid of being free, but your curiosity has its own needs. It was never a choice being free. It's always been a part of your destiny. I know you've felt that unexplainable presence easing your anxiety. And it's okay to breathe. It's okay to just be. To not know where you're going to be next spring. It's all a part of the plan. You need to have faith that those guiding you won't lead you astray. You are being protected, and I know you aren't religious, but when you feel like you've lost your way, fall to your knees, and pray. Look for the butterfly, and have faith that one small act of courageousness will set your life in motion. But you have to be willing to take action first. So flap your wings, and don't be afraid of the tornado that follows. You created your fear, and only you can survive in the wake of it.
I wrote this letter to myself. I'm preparing to travel again. In a little less than a month, I'll be on the road to Oregon. I don't have much of a plan this time, all I know is it's time to go.
**
DCgirl Oct 2017
I've been studying the process of hemostasis
how blood vessel trauma initiates the process of healing
to build that tight fibrin clot, the vessel must be torn
so if strength is our destination
must all hearts be broken?
  Oct 2017 DCgirl
Iska
I own about 300 books.
That's 300 main characters,
With roughly 2700 sub main characters.
Its about 12020 chapters,
With about 162600 pages
And about 3252000 sentences,
With roughly 55284000 words.
And that doesn't even account for all the books I have read, which if you know me, is most likely an impressive number.
Yet, of all the worlds I can slip into, with all the characters and personalities I can become, with all the differently written chapters, of all the beautiful unique words....
I can't seem to find the will to escape, can't seem to find the right story to disappear into. Can't find the perfect character to adapt to, can't find the ability to slip into the vast worlds of paper and ink... Of all those beautiful words, can't find one among them to place my emotions much less hold my attention.
I hate it when this happens,
When you can't find the will to disappear into the one thing you love, and have always been able to rely on to escape for just a short while.
No instead your stuck in your own mind with all of its dark chapters, distorted stories and twisted characters. Where, those same beautiful and unique words, are all jumbled together strung up in all the wrong ways. Oh what a dreary feeling. A hopelessness that consumes ones mind, usually so full of humor and imagination, now tethered down to a morbid and dark world
DCgirl Oct 2017
You know the craziest part of talking to you?
I start to question the reality of it all
When you say exactly what's on your mind
Or when you finish my sentences with a goofy smile
I start to wonder if it's all in my head
Maybe I have a multiple personality disorder?
Maybe I'm talking to myself?
I don't know if this is a dream
But I don't want it to be dead!
How are you real?!?!
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