i like to write. it seems... i only write internally, though. i don't tackle world or political issues... hunger, poverty, war, or the economy. i wish i were more interested... but, i guess the selfish part of me is quite wrapped up in my own emotions. maybe i'm not as considerate and thoughtful a person as i would assume. . . and here i go to back up that fact...

i often have an overwhelming feeling in my fingertips. they reach out for the thick air surrounding you. it's light and inviting most days... dense and distracted others. but always, always the urge in my stomach remains unchanged. my skin desires to touch you... my eyes to express my feelings. i cannot often do so eloquently. it's fumbled and unorganized when i haven't the time to process my emotions. my emotions are frequently irrational and confusing. i do my best to keep the insanity low. although, i'm crazy about you.

i sit in silence staring at the keys... so much too say. too soon. so goodnight to this post i must profess... i haven't the preparation for such expression...