#08.15.2017

Today, Romano misspoke enough words that he gave up talking for the rest of the day.

I be lookin all fluffy when I let my freak flag fly.  = ]

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     Writing once came naturally to me. It was my outlet, my escape. I loved it; so much so that I wanted to pursue it as a career. And I think I still do - love it, that is.       I’ve never been good at speaking my mind. I have always been much better at expressing myself through the written word, and that scares me. What if i’m not good enough? What if I don’t have enough experience, or the right experience? What if I’m not meant to write?       I enjoy sharing my personal life and experiences and deepest emotions on a platform where people could take a glimpse into my life, but probably won’t.      There are things that I’d love to delve into - my relationship with my father, my younger brother leaving for college, my financial fears and struggles and many other things, but when I sit down to write my mind goes blank.       I’m not sure if my brain shuts down to protect me or if I’m just truly at a loss for words. Either way, they’re topics I’m hoping to get back to - sooner rather than later.       This post doesn’t have much substance, and I’m not exactly sure what my point is, but it feels good to at least get my fingers running across my keyboard again.       I’ve missed the sound that reminds me of my passion - my nails hitting the keys. 

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