Swinging.

The stopping and thinking, the space between blinking, the time we take leisure and measure and rhyming and pleasure. The more I sotp to think the less I think I can stop. The act of stopping, the hesitation of going bearing a fine line between green and red, go and shouldn't. Bright green sunglasses, bright green english classes. I bet mispelling english is just fucking stupid. I'm not afraid to keep going. Being alone is terrifying and I won't let that stop me. I can't. The fact that it scares me is the same principal I base the fact that I cannot stop. I have to learn. I have to fear. I have to grow. the show must go. When I can finally write down what I think to the tune of only myself as the audience then I know I will be saying what I mean. This transparency can do nobody any justice. This menagerie is no benefit to anyone. Perpetuating the psychological predisposition that has been my greatest weakness since my moment of independent cognition - will do me no good.I'm changing. A lot. And its good. And its bad. And its painful. And its dangerous. And its new. And its exciting. And its terrifying. And its liberating. And its life altering. And I will come out the other end with both legs and arms and still breathing. Still running. Still swinging.