I’m still wading through the residue of the past 24 hours.
And realizing that life isn’t turning out how I planned.
And accepting that how I planned might not make me the happiest.
This is the scariest.
I can’t stand the incessant separating of my halves:
One, wanting to decide her own dreams.
One, wanting to stumble into better dreams.
A psychologist might analyze my personality (ISTJ).
A pastor might analyze my motivation.
Only a best friend can look at me with eyes of irate frustration and tell me that if it won’t make me happy, don’t do it, Mary.
Mary's One Hundred 