It goes round and round.

Even till now,
It's still hard to be completely frank up here.

Certain things are way too personal to be shared,
And the act of writing about it alone has the power of helping
In the sense that they make me better at expression than I'll ever be, otherwise.

One thing I'll say though
I wish there was more time for rest.
I really should learn to make do and appreciate the time that I do get,
But it's just kinda been jam-packed with things right from the get go,
And I feel like ocean waves who know the definitive directions that it'll crash in, but still does so anyway.
I feel like a moth who has gone too near the light once
And knows that it'll kill, but still approaches it regardless.

Perhaps,
I derive too much pleasure from solitary time and enjoy way more solitude than the average person would desire.
I wonder -and I've been told this before-
Is that abnormal?
It can't be 'unhealthy', but is it 'bad'?

Oh, do stop with the labels.