Head Clutter. (from elsewhere)

Listen, I'm upset about particulars. I'm also tired as death of caring... But I also can't help but care. Such is the life of a 20something girl who's still learning about herself.

Of course, this learning process never ends, so I should get used to being tired.

I love. I hate. I'm passionate and apathetic. I'm not crazy, I'm lovely. Someone will eventually wake up next to me passionately in love. I'll look at them and breathe them in.

They'll kiss me on my collarbone, near my heart, and I'll skip a beat for them. A tiny death and a resurrection.

Don't mind me, I ramble on. I don't know what I'm talking about but I know it means everything.

They'll save me from myself and I will save them. We will live for ourselves and our love. We'll be everything and imperfect. Maybe we'll make babies and they'll grow into someone who shares our ideals or maybe they'll be completely different. They'll have tiny tragedies and big ones and love and hate and be imperfect too. They'll be beautiful though. Absolutely.

But I am the one that doesn't know anything. Silly girl, right? Just looking for frivolity and nonchalant relations. Who needs meaning when you can have easy? So many times I haven't been "worth the trouble."

Well, guess what, I am. I am.

All I could ever give you, all I can ever give, is all of me. My love, healing, acceptance and soul. That is enough. That is me. I am worth the trouble.

I am worth a risk. A fight. A potential heartache.

And I'm tired or hanging on to the edge of the cliff. I might let go. So go ahead and step on my fingers.

Goodnight.