I have found myself in an interesting crossroads based upon the most benal sentence in my last blog but also the most important on how we live our lives, comfort. What do we see, and how do we see it. How does it shape our comfort zone.
I am becoming bipolar in regards to this blog, or how I reflect upon my life. When you have your toes wrapped around the cleft of a chasm do you scream in terror or do you melt and let the pure beauty of your situation overtake you. I have always been of the latter attitude, sit down and watch it all go by. Surprisingly Steph has unwittingly, unknowingly sat down next to me and let her toes dip into the chaotic white water that comes with the currents of our lives.
I am having a difficult time writing this blog, I have so many audiences I want to write for, or that is what I tell myself. Do I write for my parents, do I write for Steph's parents, or is my audience my friends? The real problem arises in the fact that I am more than one character on a stage. And each character comes out in a different way to take hold of my narrative. This is going to be a long post and highly disjointed, please read through as if it is a series of short stories by a plethora of authors.
Okay I am no longer a narrative blogger I am the author of non fiction short stories. Or something.
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