Differences in My Out of Mind Wonder

"I wish I had a role for you" keeps playing in my head, like the theme song to cheers only in a dark depressing sort of way. I want so badly to have an eye for photographing, the knowledge to dive deeply into the phantom thoughts of a character, and to be loved by someone that brings interesting perspective to my kitchen table.

Yet it takes years of hard work for two of the three, and the last one is simply chance. But my kooky self often turns the sort of men that I enjoy away from my company. And I know I have to grow up in the sense that my behavior isn't content with my age group. Attitudes can reverse, but principle is harder to budge into something foreign from the usual. Who knows what will be!

Oh, and I don't appear to be intelligent, for the things I say or don't even utter make me less captivating and it's not until a few drinks of wine later till I bust with wisdom that's only revealed in the world wide web sober. Unless I'm insane and it's because of my deep moods that I then become engaged. I'm a lyrical poet only in the red light of the moon.