are.sh.con.dence.fi

this feels a bit like a confessional (I wouldn't know for sure), I'm a hoarder. A hoarder of experience, expression and moments. Moments and memories that can either be shared with others or held onto, for myself. It's the sort of thing that I wonder about, I see others sharing their experience and stories so freely that it seems like lessons learned- for anyone whose listening; Whether the sharing of knowledge, or the outpouring of thought is what fuels their desire and drive; For me I hold self-confidence and inspiration close to my chest, I feel like I need it. I can't openly release stories and experience to the ether, it would shatter like the black to light. or bats to bright. I don't think they can hold together on their own, so I'll hang onto them. a little longer. collecting. handling. holding. till they stick. And stand on their own.

Like the bridge to a song. when the noise falls away. you'll find something unexpected. something. new.


I hoard. I guess. I do, so I can assemble. Eye spy, with my little I.