Today I am going to begin brainstorming the things I actually love, and attempt to separate them from what I wish I loved. I wish I loved roughly-hewn wooden things, I wish I loved curling my hair every morning, cozy sweaters and travel blogging. I wish I loved running and baking and attending slam poetry. I wish I loved to salsa dance, gardening, fur coats and antiquing.

I actually love to have a Chardonnay bath, really busy patterns and pretending that I’m not cold. I love my cat, macaroons and facts. I love to go crabbing, and to draw. I love weird things, irony and round shapes. I love to dream, eat, dance at the club and social media. I love going to the zoo, treasure hunting on the beach, and taking pictures. I love to learn the most, more than everything. And that’s about it.

I wish I loved making my own juice, being a vegetarian and biking. I wish I loved moments alone, knitting and painting. I wish I loved the color blue and hiking, and boys with beards. I wish I loved herbology and self-help and wellness.

I wish I loved music and weed and craft-beer. I wish I loved comfy clothes, sci-fi and gaming. I wish I loved cereal milk, scarves and communication.

I wish I wasn’t so selfish.


Somehow I used to see the devil in this. I still hate looking at it, but there’s nothing so sinister there anymore. At most the argument could be made for a crude shaman like figure, but I don’t feel it anymore. Really it’s nothing, you see what you want to see right? Nobody wants to see the devil, which is probably why I saw it, as I live my life in blind-spots. The corners of other peoples eyes are such comfortable crescents, like little moons you could read a book on. A professor once told me that I had a problem with the use of overly florid language, which I took nothing constructive from because I am always right.

Back to the “art” I used to see the devil in. Is there perhaps some breathtaking cliche hiding there? The things that used to scare us are now so faded it’s almost so sad. Maybe I feel nothing in the place where I used to feel fear. Anxiety is not funny, but it is like that. I hate the box of this self-imposed assignment that I implement to get myself to create anything.