IT TAKES TWICE TO MAKE TRADITION
...i'm not sure what to say...i mean this curser is going crazy, keeping time with my heart. and i've had friends (and since i don't really have any) i'll say "friends" who have told me that i need to write prose again. but i don't know what to write. the truth is...is that i never have...known what to write that is. i feel okay. for the first time in a long time...i feel okay. i'd love to talk about love but i just don't get it. and i'd love to talk about life but the only trouble is...is that i'm living it. can i say "her" without everyone i've ever loved wondering if it's actually "her"? can i say "love" without speaking of how i've been living without any? i'm lost right now...and that's okay. 'cause i've stopped being afraid. and to tell you the truth...i'm sick of being found. there is a metaphorical easy chair that i'm laid up in every single night. and i talk to everything that I’ve lost...and he tells me things about his friend found. and i believe him somewhat. 'cause i won't ever be all the way here until i'm there. the most significant thing i've done in the past six months is to hold someone's hand. that's okay. because i've never been more than some kid trying to figure out what this world is all about. but just so you know...the world tells me more than that...he says things...like, "that's good, she just grabbed it, your hand that is...that's a good thing." and that makes everything awesome until next week...where who knows..."she" might get sick of me...again. there, i said it..."again".