I'm thinking about pasta. I'm thinking about pasta and Christmas. Pasta, Christmas, and knitting. While the association among these concepts seems stretched, a single word draws them together: protection. These words connote warmth, the familiarity of home. This is not to say I miss home as a result of boredom or sadness, but the feeling of disengagement. Afraid my introverted demeanor will reveal itself, I strive to promote an outgoing personality. This facade only grows tiresome. Though the desire to feel grounded is presented as a cliché at best, my need to find a center is certain. Seeking this pleasure in the recognizable aspects of my previous life, I want to revert back into myself, enjoying the simple happiness of a night in watching The Barefoot Contessa.
I want comfort. I want security. Assurance.
If that made any sense.
sans titre by JuliaBrekotkina