an older ghost
04/29/2004 05:31 p.m.
I wrote a poem - or something - about him yesterday. Eric had gone to Garrett's to study and I was in my very bare room with nothing to really do but listen to music and write. and I hated it. I yelled at Eric when he called. I used to love times like that with just music and writing. regardless, I sat and thought for a while about wells. deep holes. Heather told me and Eric something she'd learned in some class about holes. apparently, we don't back away from holes or cliffs because we're afraid of heights, but because we know that if we stand close to it long enough, we'll be compelled to jump in. it felt like a punch in the stomach when she said that, and I didn't know why. so I was thinking about it. and I wrote a poem about it. and I wish I had it with me right now, so I could post it. I don't really know why I'm talking about this... this poem was for someone else. but eventually it lead to him. I was thinking about someone else, and he just appeared. so I talked to him. and it doesn't really read like a poem. it reads more like a barage of questioning and reasoning... things I would say if I had the courage, or if it were possible to take words back after you'd said them. I don't know if I'll post it or not. it's certainly not very good if it is a poem at all. but I'll post the well one eventually. hm. this journal entry hasn't accomplished a thing.
I am currently Reflective
I am listening to clicketyclickclick