I’m kind of a mess.

Not a “hot mess” though because, quite frankly, I’m not too fond of that saying.

Just a mess. A mess of ideas and hopes and desires. Some of which I actually follow through on. Others are forgotten. And many more are totally unrealistic, something I struggle to admit to myself. They can’t be worked into my life, so they fall by the wayside. But if I’m lucky, I’ve written them down.

Speaking of writing things down, I am a writer, which either intensifies my mess-being state or explains it. I haven’t decided which. Maybe it’s both.

I’m also a dreamer. I’m the girl with her “head in the clouds,” constantly contemplating the possibilities and the options. What would it mean to take this chance or that? Or to¬†not take this chance or that? Where will that leave me, and will I have enough money?

And lastly, I’m an eternal optimist with a side of nagging realist. Optimism is my natural mindset. I understand the most logical outcome and that it generally has the best chance of occurring, but I love to leave the door open for the most sought after outcome.

Even if it’s not so logical.