Young and reckless...

By far, my biggest flaw, my absolute fallacy as a human being, is that I'll do just about anything if I believe it would make a good story. Such thinking has led me down many paths that in hindsight, might have been better avoided, yet without question they have shaped my life into one worth living, into one worth telling, into one worth writing about. As I try to digest the emotions from my recent blunder of misconceptions, I remind myself that anything causing me discomfort is a phenomenon I can't help but explore. What do these feelings mean? What can I do with them? How do they change my view of the world? The anxiety is barely bearable and I run to my addictions to ease the butterflies running amok in my stomach, knowing in the back of my mind that living the life of a writer has never come easy, and if I am to learn anything before I leave this world, then I need to accept that the choices I make, aren't really choices at all.