now it is proven. i only write when i'm unsure of things - of feelings. with everything beautifully placed on the plate, i assumed i'd feel good. i am happy. but?
i no longer plan for big events to be excited for - a good breakfast makes me happy; a good conversation makes me happy; a good laugh; and, an over-friendly stranger can make my day. so ... am i missing the anything? am i settling? do i want more? how? and why? do i need more?
damnit! now i'm a little sad.
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