I wrote this brief poem after an exercise in my acting class where i had to speak to someone someone i loved but was hurt by, i began talking to my partner as if he was someone i knew.

April two-thousand and eleven

I've been wrting since i was eight years old.
Not because i had to, not because school required me, but because something was aprked...when and how i can not recall.
All i remember is sitting in the back of that silver Ford, legs dangling like stopslights in a Florida rain storm, scribbling away into the composition book on my lap.
I Am twenty now, and i an no where near the writer i want to be...but as i read old work i find silvers of faith that one day i can be...but what will it take? Catch another spark.
that's what i tell myself.
Once its caught, fan the flames, let it burn, burn baby burn...
But sparks rarely come out of the blue...there must be friction, there must be action, driving forces.
Stones, and the right kind, must be applied.
What stones?
Life experience, adventure, misadventure, literature, nature, the open road, love, love lost, desires, failure, success, effort, free falling slothfulness..
A step backward may be a step forward. Your future may be in the arms of your past.
Life is still happening whether or not you live. Emotions are moved even if you dont feel.
Words exist whether or not you write.

I choose to live, i choose to feel, and i choose to write.
And because i chose to write, it makes me a writer.

when will i get more than a hello in passing, more than the sweet utterance of my name...
you call me by name, but yet you walk away...if you knew how i desire you would you still place that foot infront of the other and disapear with my heart?
would you look into my eyes to find the truth for yourself.....
i always fall for the one i know the least about, the one i can never touch, the one i push away...the one and only one i dont know what to say to...

why do i like you? why do i think of you when my mind goes blank...i dont even know you.
sense takes over and puts me and my desires in place...im calm cool and collective...
and all you have to do is say my name.
the smallest gesture, though meaningless to most means the world to me.
If you knew me, if you knew what i was like...each oddity, each silly little dream, each and every quirk. would you treasure them as precious jewels. would you smile at my awkward manerism and kiss my lips. or would you move away, keep my at arms length. laugh and tell your friends about the strange girl who had a heart for you...you'd kiss her lips .... who ever "her" is.

i want you...but i don't know how to get you, so i sit, i wait, i look at the ground, staring into the cracks of the pavement and not into your eyes of ocean blue.

it would not take much to make me yours...i am so eager to love you..
i wamt you and i now its immature...but i've been mature for too long...
i just want to love, first i would like to know you, but all things in time..i remind myself...but time keeps rolling and i keep getting passed by...
i dont want to sit anymore,
i dont want to hind my eyes anymore.
i want to love!
why cant i love you?
and why wouldn't you love me in return?
God so many people have what they want, they go out and get it, and yes sometimes its not the best for them, but i've been here, been faithful, not perfect, not the best solider, but still im here...and i just want to know love, to give love, and to someone ...well why not him..forever.. or for now...
how will i ever know the power and potentail of love if i dont attemprit?
grant my greatest heart's desire..and if it fails, i can handle it..i'll write about it...let me live....i need to live, i need to love, try to be, i can no longer sitting on my pretty little doll self...please let me at least try, give me this....your love is asking you this....let me find joy in such a relationship...let it last, but if it must fade, let it, and bring me out better, bring me out a new...i plead of you left me find for myself, let me know, be with me in it always, i would never tred in these waters with out you, thats why im still here, but allow me to go, bring him in close.....and lets fall.

Hello blog

hello blog! :)
I love you blog, for the fact that no one reads you.
I am starting to truely believe deep in my soul that there is no one out there like me, and it pains me. Nobody who fits in the cracks of my existence, not one to indulage my most extravagant fantasies as viable truths, there is no one who can really see me past the mess, feild mines, and the many barbed wired fences. or is it that none will venture along the path?

is it unusual not to have dreams anymore?
I mean, should i be worried that i no longer have a passion or even a medicore talent to get me by?
I have made a decision to major in english becuase i could picture nothing else, but that picture comes in a little hazzy too. I label my future carrer JOURNALIST but am i cut out for such a living?
Its not that i am afraid to dream high because i fear missing the target, not at all, i wish i could hold a deep rooted dream so i could fly with it and watch i soar. but as it stands now im all fizzled out. what is it im meant to do, i' ve just been guessing up til now...
I just feel like i need to live a whole lot more....
try everything that intrests me, meet people, travel places these eyes have never seen.

this is not about not being content..because i am, where i am i have nothing to complain about, but thats the problem, there is no ADVENTURE, no CHASE, no GROWING.

and im soooo ready for Adventure!!!!!!

i should have danced with him.......i should have seized the oppertunity, i should have, i should have, i should have.


but i didn't......oh well...

why'd i go and read poe?

last night laying in bed with nothing to do i refused to let my mind fade into the blue,
so what did i do? i reached for a book i well knew....
opening the text more than three quater ways through
i lifted the pale thin marker
to read how by death a man's world is made darker
for his sonnets always begin in a place and time of bliss
but through each line and each alternating rhyme
the writer is drained of all his love and sumcombed to bitter emptiness
the beautiful isle, Zante, where memories were made
for he, was a treasued place
but through the anguished filled nights he prayed
those shores he wished from his mind he could earse,
for what he lost, there is no remedy, no aide
his heart died with the maiden and her grace
so why did i go and read the grief riden tales of Egar Allen Poe,
its a mystery i'll never know....