For the days that speaking doesn't come naturally and coherently. For the times that the words on a page speak louder than an audible voice. For the moments when every detail must be dissected, analyzed, then thrown out into the universe in an attempt to grasp reality.

I think that's why I write. I can speak, and speak well. I've been very blessed with that ability. The ability to communicate with others, and put into words the feelings and emotions that tend to run rampant through the mind. The words might come out ragged and corse audibly, but flow and bend in my writing. It's a serendipitous talent that I've found hidden in myself.

This is my first blog. My goal is not for others to read it, to become and internet sensation. Frankly, I don't have a "goal" at all.

This is for myself.

I'm trying to make sense of reality. I'm trying to align all the crazy, frayed ends of my life. I'm trying to convince myself that there is a reason behind the things I do, and why I do them. I want to remind myself that I'm a better person than I seem to think I am. Maybe if I lay all my thoughts, dreams, memories, ambitions, mistakes, victories, heartbreaks, lies, excitements, disappointments and fears out like a blueprint, I could try to make sense of me.



Because right now I'm lost.