It was only a dream...

I write for clarity. I write for understanding. I write to alleviate stress. I write when I am contemplative. I write to create order from chaos, and I write so as not to forget the path I've traveled.

I write so that I may find peace.

I write to avoid a future xanax addiction.

In so many ways, I know that I am incredibly bright. In others, I am hopelessly lost. There is a great dichotomy in my mind, which I find myself endlessly trying to reconcile. I write in an attempt to narrow that gap.

Take men, for instance. How can someone who has achieved relative success in so many ways be so clueless as to how the male mind works?

This is not a complaint, but merely an observation. Perhaps some things aren't meant to be understood...but I swear that as long as I live, I will never comprehend how the presence of a y chromosome can create a perspective that is completely unrecognizable to me.

I could write forever and not come up with an answer. Instead, I suppose I'll have to aim for acceptance.

Sometimes, that's an even more productive solution.