My Words

It's late and blogging is not on my schedule. But if I didn't type something I wouldn't feel right. The end of the semester is here and I "learned" that to write is to allow yourself to be vulnerable.

And so I want to be vulnerable. I want to clack away and form literary art. I want to know that someone might read the message my mind has sent my fingers. I want to think that maybe somewhere someone might fall in love with my words because they are me. I struggle sometimes with it. I am struggling now because I am trying to understand something that I cannot even identify. Or perhaps I am struggling to find something, some sort of fulfillment I am lacking. I am not quite sure, but it is lonely. At the end of the day, I am lonely. I am missing. I am not in love, I am in miss. And it does not feel good. It does feel sad. Can I blame it on the weather? Sure, let's do that. Most people do. And then it makes this all a little less real.