And that’s the problem with me.

I dream of fantastic far-off places and burning romances that you can feel so deeply—the kind that burns a hole in the chest.

I can’t do safe and boring.

I shrivel up and dry under the routines and monotony of everyday life and relationships. I yearn for the drama.

I feel a swirling pool of emotions—deeply.

I use my strength every day to push them down into the recesses of my soul. But when I can feel it starting to bubble, I don’t know how long I can control the chaos before I burst and drown in my own emotions.

I am addicted to the high of feeling so profoundly; I thrive in chaos.

I feel constricted under the tight belt of everyday life that keeps me on the straight and narrow. I yearn for burning passion. I come alive in the fires of illicit affairs.

Romance eludes me. I need to break free.

I was never one to conform. I live for excitement, adventure, and magic. I used to create drama to taste the excitement. Now I can’t find much to look forward to.

I thought pouring my emotions into a relationship would be the solution, but passion fades over time.

I need the fire to burn brightly in my belly again. It’s just out of my grasp, every single day.

I’m scaring myself. The emotions are coming on too strong. They take on a life of their own. My imagination leads me down a path that ignites my fear of self-destruction—again.

I want to be forged in the fire, but my worst fear is that it will consume me—burn me alive.

Is it possible to have it all?

Can I find the path back home to my heart?

Only time will tell.