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     I dont feel articulate today, so Im just gonna spill it.  Red ink has been bled to this paper for too long, trying to perfect who I am, and in regards to my aspirations (to who I want to be).  A pool of ink fills the paper before I can write a single word.  I want to have my words paint a picture that does not yet exist, but I delete them before they become full thoughts.  Thoughts cloud my mind to the point where I cannot, no wait, can't form what or where I want them to go.  My mind sometimes feels like its in grid lock, conflicting ideas stuck at an intersection... So my reasoning breaks out a baseball bat and smashes the window of feelings.  And while that should make me feel free, the confines of this is parallel to a jail cell.

     So I crumble up the piece of paper, and start at the beginning.  After all, where else does one begin?  I reach down and remember my first memories as a child.  I start at a lake fishing probably 3 years old.  I wish I could travel back in time and do it all over again, but then again, who doesent?  Not at fishing, just life in general.  There is always something that someone wishes they could have a fresh start at.  Whats yours?  After all, we write not only to vent, but someone can read our own testaments, right? 

     There seems to be a rut that everyone gets stuck in at least one point in their life.  And while I am not in that place right now, it feels like I never left.  Theres a part of me left behind that I wont ever get back.  There is no choice but to move on though.  That is what eats away at a mans soul.  The slow degradation and emotional decay that occurs.  At times I am so involved with my own thoughts I forget what day it is. 



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