"What you once were isn't what you
want to be anymore."

I truly believe I was born with a poorly constructed, slightly damaged inner clock. Please don't ask me to give a specific example as to why I believe the previous statement to be true, just trust me. Too little, too late. Too much, too soon. These cliches are the bane of my existence, of which there are several.

How is it that I am always the one leaving notes on peoples windows and doors? I try so hard to make people realize that I care about them. In regards to my most recent case, she won't respond. Not even a handwritten note could save this now.

I don't blend in anymore. When I was a child I wanted nothing more than to be normal. When I was a teenager I wanted nothing more than to be different. And now here I am. Standing out. I don't know what to think of it. I don't believe the nice things people say, not because I think everyone to be a liar but because I am most comfortable disliking myself. I'm being asked to carry myself differently and to change all the things I feel most comfortable doing. Perhaps this is a mid-mid-life crisis. Or more so a identity crisis. The point is, blending in is easier. Was easier, Jerilyn. Was.

I can't bare to look at myself anymore, in any form. I'm exhausted by my various painted faces, curls and swirls, pigeon toes and blank stares. I'm a one trick pony, anyway. Everyone will see it soon enough and all of this will be merely a freckle. A freckle easily covered with some foundation and concealer.

I should have realized I wasn't love bound when I was in the fourth grade. You see, I fell in love with this Russian kid who moved to Michigan (to my fourth grade class) And when I say love, I mean love. He wasn't nice to me and when we passed notes back and forth his replies usually contained misspelled curse words. I wrote him poems and eventually forced him into being my boyfriend. To summarize my traumatic, elementary love affair, I was too much in love to see that perhaps love wasn't for me. Isn't, Jerilyn. Isn't.

I'm just now learning from past experiences, just one confirmation of my malfunctioning clock.

It seems as though I am constantly tiptoeing around as to avoid upsetting anyone. But very few people show me the same graciousness.

I turn everyone I meet into my therapist.

All I've got is the Ace of hearts.
I'm all in and I think I should fold.