Imperfect.

I keep most of my blog upbeat and raving about the good things in life, but as I think we all know, things are not always perfect nor should we pretend that they are. As I sit here on a couch, in a house I dont feel like I belong to, or in, I realize this. Sometimes when I come home, I am faced with having to account for things that aren't right, things that make me feel less as a person. While I am not perfect and do not pretend to be for one moment, being belittled and to feel as if I am not welcome or a part of the house I grew up in...hurts. I don't write this for pity or for anything, but just to get it out. It really fucking hurts. And it's hard to come back to that. I heard once that people go into the entertainment industry for a sense of rewards...not awards or things like that, but for the reward of feeling worthwhile to someone, an audience member etc. And I truly believe there is truth in that. And as I sit here on this couch I sleep on whenever I come to Louisville, I do find it overwhelmingly sad that I feel this way, especially here.

Many the miles.
meg