You don't always realize what's in something till you allow it to settle. Think about angel white snow melting to a colour that should only be reserved for the bricks of strict boarding schools and the suits of boring, corporate types. Or of lake water collected, sitting in a bowl on the kitchen table. Look how the sunlight streaming through the curtains shows the little itty bits of sedement sinking to the bottom. There's one, and another, oh look a whole bunch of them. And now it's like a sunk flower bed. Who knew there was that much!

I've been fairly stationary lately, ever since university ended; and everything that had been floating around undetected like air pollution has suddenly made it very hard to breathe. So crying has become the substitute, which is confusing because for some time this year I was happier than I had been in a long while.

But now I'm stressed about my relationship with my mom - we're like two tectonic plates that can exist quite nicely for a while, which makes sense considering we're from the same slab of rock just split in two...until her edges start to grate mine the wrong way and bam! earthquake!

Then there's money, and the fact that we never seem to have enough, and therefore using any for my education, or even just for fun with friends, makes me feel guilty.

Lest we forget things like writing and creativity, let me add this: my brain, or at least the part that's used for stringing words together into good pieces of writing, is currently experiencing a bit of a saturation problem. One of these days I may open the refrigerator door only to find it puffed up and swollen in a jar of salt water. So that's where my creativity went, I'll exclaim. And unfortunately, if it's in one of those complicated fancy jars they advertise on 3am infomercials, I'll be unable to open it and pour out all the crap for lack of, well, creativity. Cooking lesson: never let things sit too long. You'll ruin them, like when I forget I'm boiling eggs until the water evaporates, the egg cracks, and air whistles through a crevice in the shell like an announcement on a pa system alerting me that i'm a awful cook.

Yet here I am sitting still in my life. I can't read or write or open up to new friends, or fininsh my pilot's license or apply for scholarships or register for university next year. I'm afraid my worries and insecurities will boil me over and I'll be left a lady in a looney bin, whistling crazy-people tunes out of my brokeness, alerting everyone that I could not handle it.
But I can because I'm strong and I know it. Thinking too much gives me temporary bouts of mild-insanity, but it can be remedied by a workout at the gym. Still, I obviously have some unfavourable issues floating around that I don't notice when I'm busy, if when all of a sudden I stop, they're right there collecting into something I can't ignore.

I'm not quite sure what to do.