what this is: is what i am

  I always draw my hearts uneven. To bother making things perfect is hardly my character, had it been, this blog would never have happened. Imperfections are everywhere in these pages; misspellings, bad drawings, strange photos, horrible grammar... it's okay. Every once in a while I go backwards and tidy up in smidgens, but for the most part it lays as it lies.

  Speaking of lying... do you ever feel like you are dying? When I started this blog one year ago today that's sort of how I felt, like I had been holding something in for far too long and the holdings had become sleepings. I felt bloated, lethargic and despondent; exactly the way one shouldn't feel all the time. To be fair it wasn't all the time, it was a lot of the time, but, it was enough of the time to taste this death - - - esoterically.

  

  Drunk Love Heart was not something I pulled from the sky this day in March when I decided to deliver my heart to the world. It was and is everything already part of me, my very fabric, lifetimes of longing, seeking, hurting, loving, giving, trusting, fearing, forgetting and understanding. Not sharing one's universe makes death grow. That's why this had to be. That said, when I began this thing I had absolutely no idea what a blog was or how one does a blog and most especially WHY one would want to do a blog. But I had heard enough people say, "you should do a blog" that I guess I just knew I had to "do a blog." (That - coupled with feelings of impending doom).

  What this is: toodles and doodles and scrawlings of one sweet me.

   a voice. a vision. 

  It's very raw, not design-y... I don't know how to use Photoshop and I certainly don't know anything about html's and secret codes and such, but I do know what touches me and also... I'm very good at hearing voices that, um, I probably shouldn't. 

  What this is: is what I am.

EVERY ONE OF YOU ~ I THANK ~~~~~ deeply. 

Your receptivity makes it worth the effort. 

And fills my heart with JOY!

But I tell ya what... I would do it anyway, even with no one watching.

Because of needing to live, as much as I need to let myself die.  

---esoterically.