Mar. 15, 1990

I sit here alone in my apartment, dreaming, imagining, rehearsing all that I wish to say, all that I wish to be, and wish to be seen as. It’s a combination of boredom and the comfort of a self-imposed solitude that keeps me weaving scenario after scenario in my head. I know that part of me is lonely and wants to communicate such inner things to another person. My life could be so much richer if I had more to do–an exciting goal, some extra money, maybe a lover. It’s time for me to find work. I’ve had my fling with myself and, as I knew it would, something within is telling me it’s time to move forward. I am ready.