this really belongs here

tell me i am amazing. help me find my beauty. remind me that i am awesome.

first, though, you'll have to find me. {where am i?} i know, hiding is silly but i am lost, waking up in a bed that isn't mine.

grateful always. but i have to ask, how did i get here?

i have to trust that this is where i am supposed to be, but part of it feels so wrong. or at least not right.

i get glimpses. see boxes in my future. and hard wood floors. and a view...of what though, i am not sure.

my hat rack is bare. or perhaps a bear to be embraced.

i am troubled. i feel lost, which i suppose my (former) therapist (whom i miss) would force me to admit is between anxious and lonely mixed with a little shame and anger. no wonder i have a bit of insomnia (okay more than a bit) and nausea. it isn't fun here.

although part of me knows i will miss these days spent in posh libraries. and nights watching one hot sexy vampire named angel, of all things.

part of me wants out (of this box). another is afraid to move on (although i confess i put myself here). i feel stuck. and i am not sure how to translate that to a real feeling word.

on the night stand :: THE WRITE-BRAIN WORKBOOK: 366 WAYS TO LIBERATE YOUR WRITING