I just finished writing somewhere. It was needed I think, and long overdue. I don’t think it helped me organize everything but it got the immediate stuff on paper. When I went out to walk, it was a clear night. I could see the stars. Earlier that night I saw the little dipper. I couldn’t see it when I left the last time though but I knew it was there. I was sort of chilled to begin with but was reluctant to go back for a coat. Instead I was thinking that I just would walk there, remember, and then walk back. However, I somehow decided to pull out the journal and write. When I first pulled it out, I started flipping through the pages to find the end. It was so…familiar but I still felt I was looking at someone elses diary. Finally I found the page I left off on and began to write. That is all I did. The walk home was cold, cold like it usually is now, and every time since thereafter. I am not trying hard enough, so I can not complain about anything. All I can do is pitty my orneriness to let go. These lyrics just came to my head so I will end with them:
and the sky is filled with light
can you see it?
all the black is really white
if you believe it