old enough to know better

WARNING: I'M PMSING SEVERELY AND AM WELL AWARE OF IT.

I know it's just because I'm PMSing, but I'm inches away from crying. I'm trying to stifle it by doing something productive but it's not working.

I was sorting through all of my old notebooks, looking at all the things I wrote last year, freshman year, and as a kid. Sometimes I thought "wow, I was stupid" and other times I thought I'd been pretty clever... it just all seemed pointless. Why all that poetry that even I forgot? The drawings I'm just going to stick in a bin? I was struck with a severe urge to burn all of it. I held myself back--that habit just sets off my fire alarms and makes people think I'm crazy--but I was sorely tempted. Instead I just put it all in a box and hid it away. I don't ever want to look at any of it again. I was so inspired. I wrote little poems every day. I felt deep.

I still feel deep and I draw a lot better now and I write a little better.

But I feel like I've lost my muse.

There are so many things in my head opressing me now. I wish I knew how to be happy. I wish I still had him. I wish I still had my muse.