A trip into the past....

But not so distant past. I spent this afternoon cleaning out the eves in my room and wow...is there a lot of crap in them..... I found my pencil box from 7th grade and this canvas case/bag thing full of notes and comments and general scribbled things....haha, it was quite a trip to read all the things I used to think about certain people...namely... Orlando Bloom...:) I apologize, I really do, but these things happen. I also found my old English notebook and came across a wee bit of writing I had done. Not sure exactly what I was talking about but I thought it sounded kinda interesting...anyways....here is:

And I ask each one, silent, alone:
"Are you still mine?"
Is my sorrow a sorrow to you,
my death a death?
And what has happened?
What has this silence done?
What deep loathe has awakened?
A loathing passion to live
to constantly be in want and need
to never stop searching and struggling.
To give up the fight
is to become complacent with the untruth
To bury this squalor of existence
is to allow the essential
to go unaddressed.


Enjoy.