Saturday, March 25, 2006

The Truth

I know why I am so unhappy.
I am not living the life I am supposed to be living.
Each time I call
or get lost in the chaos of another
I am saying goodbye to my dream.

I can sit here and cry and say I don’t know why
I am so unhappy
but I know.
I am supposed to be writing.
Everyday.
Writing and breathing in my truth.
Not worrying about paint colors and laundry detergents.

My mother tells me my last album didn’t sell well.
She’s right.
Even in her psychotic state she knows more than I do.
I am unhappy.
I wonder how many other people are living a life
they don’t want to be living.

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