It's been quite a while since I've posted. It's been quite a while since I've written a letter or a journal entry. I mean a real journal entry, not just writing down a conversation I had with somebody. It's been a while since I've written anything really. Anything other than FRQs and vocab words and chemistry notes. Anything real.
Quite honestly, I'm not sure if I remember how to write. I can move my pen across the paper and form pretty little letters. Those letters know how to form words that march across the page and form sentences. The sentences build paragraphs, the paragraphs fill pages, the pages fill recycling bins. But that's not writing, not really. I could write all about what I ate for breakfast today or why my favorite number is 83 and no one would want to read it, not even me. It doesn't mean anything to me, and if it doesn't mean anything to me, the author, how can it ever mean something to you? Well, here I go, trying to be all cryptic instead of just telling you what I mean.
I guess maybe that's because I don't know what I mean. But I guess I'll just write anyways, as if analyzing my writer's block will make it go away.
So this is for you, Maddiey. It's for you, but it's also for me. This is for me to tell you that no matter what happens, no matter if you hate my guts, I'm still here and I still love you. I hope that counts for something.
You are golden, child. Don't let go.
Love and kisses,