Writer's Block

Thought bubbles form like dew upon my mind
the mystery it brings is my only disguise
my next attack they'd never see
the worst part of me

All my words seem to jumble
when I start to question their existence
From those lips you made me kiss
Writer's block

I must switch gears. So, people of the world, I have a confession to make. I know I'm a confused little girl in this big unknown world, but last night I had a vision. I was driving into to work when I thought more about going into criminal justice to study detective work. I got chills. This might be everything I have ever wished for. Detective work is a wide range of abilities. It holds majority of the qualities I wanted in a job. For example, secretarial skills, researching, taking care of people, and traveling/see new things. Using the power of psychology and law to creep into the lives of others. Anyways, that's always an idea.

Twenty-one years old. I think I'm behind my goals list from high school, but that was when we were in better hands knowing what the future brought. The past didn't know the future would be so questioning and double doubting herself. I have somewhat of a degree to show for it. Even though, I still have one more class to complete it. At least, I have always found some work to keep me out of trouble. I just don't have any motives for the future. All I am expected to be is a mother and a wife. Why should I make myself more complicated than that? What are  people going to know about me anyways? That I'm so and so's wife. Thoughts of the other side pulse through my neurons. Cutting all my hair off and just accepting the fact that I'm a total dyke and I can't stop thinking about tits. The only question I can ask myself is; what makes me happy?

If I don't succeed the urge to cut my hair off by Jan, I'm sure after new year's will be the day.