small

my life has become very small

one room. me. seven animals

i try to get out as much as i can but often my anxiety and general lack of enthusiasm keeps me indoors

i am concerned i will become even more of a hermit than i was before

i have strong hermit tendencies you see.....

the need to tuck my broken self away has always been there, i am not one to seek out companionship or kindly advice.

deep down i know this is probably a bad trait to have but at the grand age of forty two i guess i am not going to change so right now i am just going with the flow.

counting my blessings

and waiting for something, anything to happen....

it will

i am sending hopes up and and out there on the fading summer breezes whilst trying desperately to keep the mad screaming lady that sits inside of my heart quiet

she is there

 i know it. she knows it. 

making continues with still no place for it to go

i was chatting to my mama the other day trying to warn her that if i find no suitable outlet that within a year i will be imprisoned in a room stuffed full of paper people and strange paper animals

they will open the door to my room one day and it will all just spill out in one papery river of creativity

inside i will be sat with crazed hair and glue stuck to the side of my face..