I’m searching for something. Maybe I’m trying to find my purpose in life. Maybe I’m searching for the answer as to why I’m so fucked up. Maybe I don’t understand the question: “who are you?” So I have to write it down over and over and over again to try and understand it. Maybe I write to realize that I’m just a human that does human things.

Writing allows me to vent to a blank page. It allows me to be myself – which is a relief – because I find that so hard to do in front of other people. It’s a catharsis, it’s a practice, its an art and it’s a Marxist. Its an exercise, because no matter what size of the paper I write on, (excuse me) but bygones will be bygones. I write to become a better person, to loop my words cursive, to think outside the box but jump back in if there’s a purpose. By looking at the journal of last year I can remember my mistakes and my fear, my pain and my accomplishments, and my blatant lack of common sense.

I write because my thoughts look a lot crazier on a piece of paper then they do in my head. I can take a notion and bring it back to the lab for further analysis. Why did I think that I was broken, unable to be fixed? When not so long ago I could have really given a shit? I write to become a better human being, to self-realize and actualize, to turn my table Technicolor and to paint the skies rubber. I’ve got some imagination, and with a little patience I can demonstrate the thoughts that led me to those cages.

I’m reliving emotions, memories and moments when I look back at my old word. Because right now I’m coasting but I don’t want to miss out – and if I waited hate and I would be acquainted and the inside of my mind would be painted a certain shade shaded. Because if I quiet my mind, desperation is awaiting from a byproduct of self shaming with a blaming hand making all of my fears news breaking. And these monsters? They’re still waiting. But this picket fence is iron gated.

I’m trying to build on something though, be in a different place than I was a year ago. And if I read these words? They’ll let me know.