Let's start over, shall we?

I have words and phrases floating around my head and no place to put them. I want to be a writer. I desperately want to create profound prose that moves you to tears. That makes you think.  I try to take the nonsensical thoughts and to string them together to produce something with substance. I fail. The simple act of taking thoughts and typing them out is an impossible task. I type and delete. I type and re-word. I move things around and check for errors.  I'm never satisfied even when I think I am.

I want to tell you about my job.  How I lie, cheat and steal.  How I sell my soul almost daily and earn close to nothing for the ethical turmoil.  I want you to feel the distress in my writing. I want you to hate me for what I do and love the fact I'm good at it.  I want to be the antagonist.  I want you to feel no sympathy yet wanting to know more.  I want you to know how I can make money appear and your home disappear in a few clicks of my mouse.  I want you to know I try to be moral.  I don't want you to believe me. I want you to see a piece of humanity in me when I actually do the right things for the right reasons.  I want you see how rare that is.

I want to tell you how how motherhood is for me.  How I love my child yet resent almost weekly.  I want you to identify and scream "ME TOO!" I want to tell you all the things we deal with and how strong I think I am.  I want you to feel sorry we have rough times. I want you to love us and feel a part of our family.  I want to update you on doctor visits and new diagnosis.  I want to tell you funny things my child says and the bad things he does.  I want you laughing at our mishaps and crying over our troubles.

I want you to know I'm sober.  How I wish I wasn't and yet love the life of recovery I live.  I want you to be curious how I got here and why I choose to get clean.  I want to you agree it's for the better but secretly hope to hear a war story.  I want you to hate who I used to be and love me for who I hope to become.