My life is lifeless. There is ambition overflowing inside of me, spilling out into sticky arts and crafts as I try to apply my energy to the role I've been thrust into, the job I've thrust myself into. My heart breaks into pieces, confused chaotic shattering, love for the boy all my own crushing the desires of a young individual. Music evoking joy, nostalgic wonder, painful sadness, empty loneliness. Maturity once an optional responsibility has become a nagging requisite, keeping fun to more manageable levels so as not to excite the endorphin glands.
All our childish ways, we out grew them to raise a child. I fear this is a faulty method.