sometimes

this is totally random and uncalled for. especially at this time when i should not be doing anything else besides reading and analyzing poetry for my Spanish class. but sometimes i really wish i was an artist. sometimes i think about what would really make me happy...what i would want to do all day long, every day. i want to create stuff. or fix stuff up. i like working with my hands sometimes. and sometimes i want to be left alone--i don't want to talk to people. sometimes i wonder what could have happened if i'd tried to develop an artistic skill. i think there was some potential. it may have all dried up by now. i have fantasies of quitting everything i know and doing something totally new.

back to the horrible poems. sorry gabriela mistral...but i just don't get you.