I look up squinting

it seems lately that my posts (few that they may be) all start with some quip about how I haven't been writing enough. but that my friends, is a lie. I am constantly writing. what I am not writing is blog posts, what I am writing is songs. so many of them dancing about, bouncing off my skull, snuggling in the squishy bits of my brain. I am loving it. I am so deeply caught up in what I really want, that I have forgotten to think of any of the things I might be lacking. there are always things lacking. my fridge is lacking in vegetables, my bed is lacking in companionship, my bank is lacking in funds, blah blah blah.

my heart is so darn full.

my head is bursting with ideas. I am dwelling in possibility. I am too busy playing with the idea of what it is that truly makes me happy, to find time to be sad. oh I know how fragile this state is, how temperamental, how quickly it can turn into an inability to get out of bed. but I hold on to it like an angel hair tied to a big bright balloon backlit by the sun. and I just stand there, holding on, and I look up squinting.