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Rated: E · Letter/Memo · Emotional · #1226577
Letter to me
My mind runs the gamut of a thousand thoughts. I try so hard to sort them out. I have such good intentions. I plan things for today but I sit and I write. Am I crazy? Am I lazy? I want to go outside, I want to feel the sun but I lock myself in to shield myself from the outside world. Is this another addiction? Will this pass as the weather warms? People see me as outgoing and social. If they only knew the real me; the me inside.

I want to plant flowers. I want to put pictures in albums. I want to paint the porch. Why do I sit here and write? What do I do with all these thoughts? How do I separate them from the good and the bad? Am I alone in this feeling? Do others see my point?

I am not depressed. I do not need medication. I work every day. I function. I help my family but when I get home, I lock myself in. I can't wait to get back to my computer. Am I addicted? Is this something else to give up as I age?

My stepmother called me a hermit. And this is a bad thing?

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