What words of what worlds?

You can always completely tell when a writer is fascinated with something because they write about it over and over, seemingly repeating the same thing, as if they are trying write whatever it is they are thinking out of them. It is such a frustrating process to be utterly hooked on an idea, a passing fascination that wont go away. For me I have an attraction to making thoughts tangible in my mind. Every idea or ideal has to become a tangible substance in my mind in order for it to be processed, to be picked apart and written in imagery. I need the image to create the imagery. I am fixated on time for example. I can not make time tangible. And because I can not make it tangible in my mind I cease to understand it and it allures me and alludes me at every fragment of its being. At one point during this process I was fixated on words. And the word, word. What are words? What levels of what meanings of words make them what they become? In my mind I would put a color to a word to try to make them more relatable but then I became fascinated with the colors and what they meant until the whole process became frustrating and head ache producing. It's all a frustrating circle. Is this a process of writing? What am I meant to get from such thoughts and fascinations? Will I finally work my way out of this and will the end product be one of beautiful use? Or am I just going insane? Silly, being fixated by the processes in her own mind, selfish and praising of what can be her downfall.

Balance act

What is it with moving? Is it the newness or the unknown element that makes me both excite and shy away at the thought? I move in a couple of days. Moving away to college. So final it all seems. Here lately I find myself always asking the question: what happens to those who wait? Who neither want to move forward into the "real world" and find themselves a reflection of an older person they do not like. But it is impossible in the schemes of time to stay where I am; neither a child nor an adult but struggling to keep the perfect balance. I feel cheated out of a childhood that I want back. I don't want to "grow up" become "educated" and be thrust out into a catapult of expectations that I don't know if I can meet. I can barely wrap my mind around the idea of what do I want to be? For you see its not just about want but meant, what am I meant to be. What do I feel is right. When asking oneself this question I can see all the things I could have been but now can never be and the things I could only hope for but am halted, struggled by the normalises of my own self. I have no idea what to do, except pack, for that is the only action I can take. I'd love to run away, far far away, where I am not known and start a new life. But I feel regrets would follow me in that decision no matter how much a part of my soul wants it.

Disappearance

Where have I been? Honestly I forgot I had this blog and not until a passing wave of curiosity did I decide to stumble back upon it. I laughed a little outloud when reading my past entries. How can I explain what has happened to me since January? In an innocent way I'd like to go back to that time just to re-experience what I was going through. But I have met somebody since then and my life has changed. He is beautiful in every sense of the word. His goodness is indescribable and I love him truly. There is something about a person like me where love is not a natural expression. He makes me want to be a better person; he makes me want to get better, to stay healthy. He makes me want forever.

As far as inward change all I can ask is: is that ever possible? I think a slight metamorphosis can happen but its a linked change that blends all past to all future selves. I am starting college in less in a week. Such imposing circumstances that are supposed to hold so much promise. Will I capture the moment and hold it for all that is mine? I know not and I doubt I ever will. I need a direction in my writing because I am so insecure as to where it stands.