Three posts in one night. Yikes.

A part of me thinks this is what I deserve. A part of me thinks as a young girl I didn't dream because life taught me not to. Instead I read and saw the world through books.

Now I don't really read. I mean the news I guess. I know things, I'm not completely uneducated. But I don't get lost in books like I did growing up.

I feel defeated. Like I might just die alone with no one to care. In a tiny box in Brooklyn. And that is not why I romanticised moving here ha, for that well-read book of Betty  Smith's. 

I know so many humans feel like me. That I am so common. But I'm so lonely. I want to feel. 

I still pray. I'm still grateful. But I'm so very tired. 

 So I guess this is it: I'm lonely, and I'm not normal.

I'm never going to be dishonest with anyone. But how do I meet someone as I am? Like I love and hate NYC. I love the diversity. Diversity of person, of mind, of being. I might disagree but it turns me on. But the lack of natural beauty? The sheer number of humans? Terrifying. Turn the humans to dogs and I'm in heaven. And again I ask: what do I do with this? Why am I like this? 

A lot of the time I feel so fucked up.

Like when I imagined things as a tiny kid this was not it. But I guess I never really idealised the future like other kids. I never saw myself with kids and a family. I wanted those things but I couldn't see them if that makes sense. I was never the girl imagining the Disney Princess life. I didn't really ever idealise things. I was like, well,arriahe looks shitty. Kids can be born a mess. 

I love what I do and I'm good at it. More than anything I miss Samson. Beyond that I don't know at this point. 

Am I odd?