So I've yet to tear into this blog as I probably should. I mean it's only proper to do it right if to do it at all. But I admit it's hard to hold my heart out for all to see. Pumping, thumping, dumping out my emotions on the page. I wish that I could show the raw ragged edges of myself, but I just can't. I'm not even sure I can give a decent witticism today. Because today I question what am I doing. Here in LA, trying this writing thing. Trying this living thing. Trying this not drowning thing. When self doubt mixes with self pity to rise over the levy and past my neck. I need to shake free and jump out of the waters like a ferocious great white eating yet another meal. But instead of dinning with sharks I wonder if I'm better suited for landlocked life, away for the tidal waves of emotions that this struggle brings. But for now I find solace in an imagined world. One where people like me are alone, but have each other. If that makes any sense. For me it does. Now I just need to translate that for you.