Nordstrom Rack

Maybe I was born to write
to express my feelings in the written form
it seems like it is the only thing that keeps me sane at times.
I don't know it just pours from my little head, the letters, the emotions, the every once in awhile I'll rhyme.
It's just recently I have had more on my mind and more of and itch to spill my thoughts out on the paper--
let the ink flow so to speak-

thoughts of my hidden achievements, the ideas of lost identities, the second guesses that I hold deep within myself.
I don't know where they come from, but late at night they are very much real within my own being.
I doubt myself every day the person I am, the person I am becoming, I don't know if I'm worth anything.
I worry about everything.
the way that the wind blows so hard at night. the way it bends the glass of my window ever so slightly.
No one really notices, but that is how I feel every day.
The way that verbal exchanges carefully bends my beliefs, my heart, my soul-

No wonder why I am "so sensitive"
I cannot disregard the meaningless, the senseless, reckless, careless, thoughtless, incidences that happen occasionally.
Thicker skin for sale---credit cards are maxed out.

Wait for the clearance racks to be full with the things I want, the things I guess I'm told I need.