The Song of Cinnamon buns

Have I been kicked out of the blogging world yet? I wonder if anyone who clicks my blog titles are frowning or are actually curious if I really wrote a blog about cinnamon buns. Sorry to troll anyone, I just write blog titles that come to mind when I am blogging away.

I’ve never been a good sport at coming up with the most wittiest headliners, and I swear I still struggle with writing the first opening sentence to a book. Sometimes I can bleed onto paper, and let what words course through my veins saturate an entire page with wonders. Other times, I’m playing Jenga with words and Hopscotch with grammar, which, I still am terrible at doing by the way.

I must confess, I am terribly bad at expressing myself personally and even to others. I like to hide behind the face of someone who portrays an intellectual mind veiled in mystery… or insanity, depends on the person. There is a saying that we show our true faces when no one else is around, which I believe is true, which is why I need to talk about cinnamon buns.

At times, I hide behind this strong facade that I can handle not eating sweets anymore and usually I steer clear from any carbs. However, as of late, I’ve been running behind closed doors and munching on cinnamon buns and ice cream. I try not to beat myself up for these slip ups, but I realize more and more that the song of cinnamon buns stems from my own insecurities about control in my life.

Did that even make sense?

I probably never will make sense, regardless of how I wish to sound at least linear to others. So much chatter and babble in this mind of mine.

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