Yearnings.
I am in need of a creative outlet. I feel as if my mind is pulling me in a thousands different directions as each desire makes itself known and the need to fulfill them bubbles up and burst within me. Part of me wants to sketch and doodle, maybe pull out the watercolors and paint. Another part of me wants to build stuff, out of Popsicles sticks, or Lego if I could find any. My fingers are itching for clay. They want to knead, pull and form something. They yen for the squishiness of the mud as it gets scrunched up in my hand. My mouth wants to sing, compose sonnets and poems, and spew sentences of intelligent eloquence. My feet are yearning the quick rhythm of a maddened dance, spinning about as the sensual savage beat of the music engulfs me. Another part of me wants to curl up in a huge comfy sofa, enjoy a mug of tea and lose itself in a book.