Writing.

Do you remember that scene where Indiana Jones fell into the pit of snakes? There are big snakes and little snakes and hissing snakes trying to bite and snakes that could care less... and there he is, in the center of all that, trying to figure out how to get out of there.

That's my head these days.

My brain is full of squirmy thoughts that don't necessarily have any negative desires, but become something that I am completely unable to not focus on.

It's tough to live like that.

I've recently had to make the choice to set aside one of the longest relationships in my life, the one with my little sister, while she is figuring her life out. I'm not interested in putting any of this into the public forum, but I am unable and unwilling to have a relationship with someone who is capable of saying such hurtful things to me (especially about something I pride myself on being good at). I know that's vague, and I intend for it to stay that way, but I need to put it out there because it has greatly affected my life recently.

It's also inspired me to write again. I remember being that age, thinking I knew everything and everyone else was wrong, wanting to take on the world... I miss the inspiration that drove out of me. Sitting at Starbucks the other day reminded me that, while I might not always take the time to write, that writer is still inside me dying to get out.