Time escapes me. Almost two years have gone by since I've written in this silly thing. A lot happens in two years, even when "nothing" seems to actually happen.
I'm not even sure what I'm trying to compose here. Though, it may have always been that way. There was just always that inclination to somehow make sense of my life that compelled me to spit my emotions out.
As I begin to creep up on 26 you would think that I would have more of a sense of what life has in store for me. Yet as of late you'll find me on my knees begging God for some type of clue. I'm grasping at dreams I'm not sure I should keep. Why is it that I am always such a mess?
I have so much more to offer than I have been allowed to give.
