Delicate Doll

I’ve got this problem, but I’m not sure how I could accurately describe it in English, in such a way that it would actually be given justice. It’s not as simple as a one single problem, either. It’s the premium package of problematic practices. It’s a feeling that I can neither shake, nor describe. It stems from the illogical portion of my brain; that is the portion totally unsatisfied by dictionary definitions and corresponding cross streets. It’s illogical and unreasonable. It doesn’t want simple solutions, it desires constant consolation. It is the bain of my existence, my inescapable femininity. Always present, nagging, whining, confusing coping mechanisms. The logic-brain reasons, “just turn it off. Ignore it.” That only serves to further arouse it’s absolutely unstable view of the world. It only stokes the flame of irrational desire to acknowledge the tom foolery of it. Why does desire arise before it’s time? To prepare us for the winding, swirling, twirling roads ahead, I propose. Ideally, I say it should just sit tight and wait it’s turn, but what’s the fun in that? I crave an ever-changing, evolving, moving, living, breathing, breathtaking environment. I dream of the unknown, empty, the undiscovered. I reach for the new, pure, undecided, enchanting glory of the untainted, peaceful, serene GREAT OUTDOORS. The awe-inspiring Creation of a Mighty God. I am beside myself with the purest fear of indecision. I am left in careful appreciation of the simple joys in life, the small pleasures, tiny details, the under-appreciated novelties of daily life. I am most satisfied in those moments of genuine, unadulterated, unashamed, uncontrollable, uncontainable, overwhelming surprise, shock and awe at such simple intricacies; novelties of life.


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