At the end.

More and more I feel I'm losing touch with my writing. It's been a slow fade, over the last year or so, and a quite unfortunate one at that.

Writing has always been my hiding place, one where I was never pressured out of using rhetoric and metaphors and irony. Constantly I find myself being urged by others to be more "straightforward." Time and time I've been burdened by the heavy words of others stating how I "mislead." This part of my life I try to keep seperate from my writing altogether. It's an ugly component, greedy and grotesque and one that I would gladly do without. But writing, not always my own, in and of itself, is a beautiful thing. It's gritty and unforgiving and raw. In all of this, it is beautiful.

I know that I need to write more, but I feel as if I force myself to then I will resent it, the thing I've always loved most. This is why I know I can never write as a career.

A calmness in the wild.

It's strange. This whole college thing. When my mom dropped me off, she kept saying "it's just like summer camp."

I hated summer camp.

The beach is 15 minutes from my dorm. I can see a huge lake from my bedroom window. I get to walk by a stream and through the forest to get to the gym.

So much is going on around me. Baby chipmunks cross my path. Seagulls fly overhead. Raccoons sprint by my window.

And in the midst of all of it, I'm calm. I'm Happy.

There comes a time.

I've forgiven you. For whatever reason I think you may still read this. But I'm at the point where it doesn't matter either way. I never thought I would find myself here. But I'm at the point where my capacity for love has overshadowed my capacity for bitterness and hatred. So, I forgive you.

butter knives.

They say words cut like knives. The worst they ever pained me was like a sunburn.

weary.

a quiet slumber
perchance to dream
a story unfolds
'fore conscious wake

but child beware
of what may seem
for sleepers lie
and oft dreamers fake.

pieces.

One day, I thought I was in love.
Then the next day, I was never more unsure of anything in my life.

=]

you may have moved on,
but i've long since been moving.
criticize and castigate,
you were always disapproving.
Yeah, aim for those stars,
but I reside on the moon
The timing isn't good,
Nah, it's opportune.