shit, damn, hell

I think there are some things that the heart knows are true that the brain just doesn't want to accept. Or maybe it's the other way around. Maybe my heart is denying what my brain knows is the truth. Sometimes I think my damn optimism is misplaced. I've been cussing more lately. I don't want to act out with food, I don't do drugs, I'm allergic to alcohol, boys are just trouble lately. It's like I want a little 'bad' coping mechanism. Because I still feel sad even after I exercise, talk, paint, read, journal, pray, sing, dance, on and on. So, a good cuss word every now and then makes me feel rebellious and fiesty.