my desire to one day be a writer has left me.Â
the library has been my home yesterday and today.Â i’ve spent twelve hours in there, researching and writing,Â willing myself to finish the longest paper we have to write here.Â the last two days have been days when i wear sweats, a baseball cap, and no make up on.Â i sit beside the heater, ear-phones in, typing and deleting, and typing and deleting some more.Â talking to other students, i realize that there areÂ just aÂ dear fewÂ who take as long as me, who research as long as me, and who look up every word in the Bible dictionary that is found in the chapter you’re studying.
the sick part?Â i still need one more page to complete the paper.Â i still need 500 more words to really say i’m finished.Â and i have nothing more to write.Â back to the library i go.
yeah, writing for a job?Â i’m just not sure about that one.
. . .
funny how somedays i’ll miss someone specifically.Â i miss my brother today.Â no, not the little one — the big one.Â the one who used to wake up really early with me and we’d play “snakes” with our friendship bracelets.Â the one who used to stay up late talking and creating the most beautiful girl in the world, using the facial features of the “top five” girls from church (you can only take guesses at why ones mind works the way it does at age ten).Â the one who i’ve done everything with.Â
yeah, i miss him.
. . .
sometimes i’ll read something and although i don’t know what the writer is actually talking about, i love the way it sounds.Â writers, good writers, can find the perfect combination of words to moveÂ my human soul and inspire me (even if i’m blind to the meaning).
Three things are too wonderful for me;
Four I do not understand:
The way of an eagle in the sky,
The way of a serpent on a rock,
The way of a ship on the high seas,
And the way of a man with a virgin.
– Proverbs 30
Is love a fancy, or a feeling?Â No.
It is immortal as immaculate Truth,
‘Tis not a blossom shed as soon as youth,
Drops from the stem of life – for it will grow,
In barren regions, where no waters flow,
No rays of promise cheats the pensive gloom…
Nor will it be changed, though all be changed beside.
– Hartley Coleridge
. . .
or you can just listen to musicÂ and find that one line that says it all:
I miss you, miss you so bad