PINEAPPLE WALL PAPER

All I've really wanted to lately is write. I've been locking myself in my room, playing music for hours, but not because I don't have anything else to do, not because I am sad and desperate for something to take care of all my free time for me, but because it is what I want to do, what I'm hungry for. I want to eat words, chew them carefully, swallow them, regurgitate them and my stomach acid onto paper to make something new. I am thinking that this may be dangerous, "I am learning to get along with myself" I told my mom, but now I might be learning how to get along with only myself, and no one else. I could write about my family forever, and I swear to god we are magic, not to say that we are special to anyone but each other, and to each other we are gold. We are so honest with each other, maybe not by choice but because we have to be because we are all too much the same and we can't lie to each other as well as we can lie to our friends. Maybe that isn't what i mean at all. I use the word maybe like it is the most important word in the english language. I am indecisive to the point of self-destruction. I am slowly working my way out, unfolding myself for the world, and for me. I can't stay in here forever, but I haven't quite found the full confidence to leave. I try to be impulsive, not calculated, I try not to worry about the consequences, and sometimes I can get there but never quite. Even when I am drunk my head is still there, just a little blurry. I don't see this inhibition as all bad, because everything has it's purpose, but sometimes I wish I could get rid of it.

I am learning to be less jealous, less worried about MY place, because my place is wherever i decide it is, i am taking more control, I am not a doormat, I am not an oriental rug, I am something stronger, like the grand-father clock or maybe the pineapple wall paper. [and this brings me to my other point] I have been thinking about my Grandma, most days, everyday, I have been writing about her, I have been getting closer to her without her even knowing it, I have been daydreaming about the rainbows that are always dancing around her house, from the sunlight reflecting off the crystal glasses and bottles. The way that house has never meant anything but happiness to me, and how I hope it never means anything but happiness for me. I used to think it was just the house, I don't know why, but I know I know I know it is HER. She has made it for us. I will tell my children about her, they will get tired of hearing about her, but I will tell them anyways, forever, because she is the queen of my heart.

should i tell her this?
maybe saying she is the queen of my heart is too much.
i always go to bed confident but wake up with doubts, and that seems backwards to me.