Howl.

"Be careful of the curse that falls on young lovers;
Starts so soft and sweet and turns them to hunters.
A man who's pure of heart and says his prayers by night
May still become a wolf when the autumn moon is bright.
If you could only see
The beast you've made of me
I held it in but now it seems you've set it running free
The saints can't help me now
The ropes have been unbound
I hunt for you with bloodied feet across the hallow'ed ground."

Perhaps this isn't the best day to be blogging with my head pounding and a drink in my hand, but, with that said, I have a confession to make.

I have a terrible habit of being able to figure out what I want very, very quickly. The amount of time it takes for me to be able to admit that "want" to myself varies, but I always know. Somewhere, in the back of my incredibly fucked up mind, I always know. And when this whole (hypothetical) cake vs. pie mess started, I knew what I wanted immediately.

And today, I finally admitted it to myself.

Now, the trick is to let it come to me.... and resist the urge to hunt it down.