I am an inconsistent woman. My life is composed of whims and impulses. My heart burns through its passions like a comet blazes through the earth's atmosphere, bright and joyous, but burning, burning, burning until when it finally lands, it's in a million pieces, scattered all over. I am without patience and my attention is a wild animal that shrugs any attempt to tame it. When I love, I love passionately- with everything I have and everything I am and when I lose that, I am utterly broken. I never rebound quite the same and I never love anything twice.
I prefer the imaginary to reality, the visual word to the spoken word, and being solitary to the company of others.
I love the cold though it's barren. I love my dreams though they give me no comfort.
And I'm in love with the stars though they do not love me back.
(I also adore sweeping generalizations☺)