Dear Readers,
This is an unusual post for me. I decided when I started this blog that I would put out each post with a purpose, and this is what I have tried to accomplish with each post. Each has a resolution, a point on which I've focused or a note of hope to end on. Which is where I've differentiated in this post: I have no point, just a bunch of feelings wadded up inside me like a discarded rag.

I focus way too much on the past. I find this much easier than focusing on the future, because the future is an uncertain gray space in my mind; the past is vivid. I find myself going over things I could have done better in the past, those moments when I should have (or shouldn't have) said something, the things I wish I could erase and rewrite in my own colorful language. Then I find myself wishing I could rewrite myself. There are moments when I want to be the shy wallflower sitting in the corner or the first one to make an impression. I wish I had more imagination, less social restrains, and a bigger sense of my own impact on those around me.

So, no, I don't have a moral for this story; but I'm finding out that life doesn't have a moral to its story. So, that's the moral for today: no moral.