Reconciling Saints

I'm supposed to be posting again. I'm supposed to be working on stories and things I want to write that make me more me.

I've a penchant for the melancholy. I blame the wine.

Then again it might be that I have to do a lot of work on myself and what I want to do. A lot of things involve a lot of work.

I hope I can do it.

I love to sing and I want to a bit more but sometimes... sometimes even in the shower, my voice falters.

I like the tickytappy of my fingers on the keys. It drowns all the other noises. Now if I can only give myself over and I can let go and just be in these words. If I could only just work instead of dream. It's so much easier to dream isn't it? But you get nothing out of just dreaming. It's one of the things I've finally drilled into my head. I have to work and work and work at it, like Amanda does. She works... and works... and works. She spends not a lot of time socializing and I barely get to talk to her but she's doing what she wants to.

Sometimes you have to wonder which one is worth more. Which is the harder to give up: a life, or your passion? Is there an in between.

So the question is, will there ever be an answer?