The First Post

I've never had a blog. Well, I've never kept one up. I think I may have started a few, but then forgotten about them after some time. I don't know how this one is going to end up, but I want to try my best to keep it going. I don't think this will be something I specifically want other people to read. It's just me, keeping something like a diary on the internet. If you want to read, that's fine. You don't have to, and if you feel like you're falling asleep at this point, you should stop reading now.

I don't even know what to write without making this sound stupid. Hopefully, I'll get better the more blogs I post.

I never really considered myself a poetic person. I've tried writing poems, and they're good to me while I'm writing them. But then I finish them, put them somewhere, forget about them, and when I find them again some time later, I read them and I wonder what possessed me to think I could pull off writing a poem. I crumple it up and throw it away.
I've tried writing songs, as well, but I don't feel like that's something I specialize in either.

My little sister, Esther (she's turning 13) gave me a little notebook for Christmas last year, expecting me to write in it. I wrote a little diary entry on Christmas eve in the notebook, and then didn't touch it for a few weeks. You can say I'm not a diary kind of person. I picked up the book in the beginning of this month, read my entry, laughed at myself and tore the page out, crumpled it up and threw it away...

Then I picked up a pen and started writing...

I don't know what you want to call what I wrote in it. I suppose it's just my thoughts running wild. Here's the first...thing...I wrote.

I guess there's nothing quite as nice
As summer vacations and lemonade
Spring break and flowers and bees
Winter and frost and cocoa
Autumn and colors and leaves.

Maybe the times when we're truly happy
Are times when there's nothing to think about
No space around us that tells us "no"
A state of mind where consciousness is non-existent,
Unreal.

I tried so hard to put you in a box
So that I could understand you
And the things you do.
But I realized too late that
Some things aren't meant to be understood.
Like how some things are better left unsaid,
Things about you that I dislike are not to be spoken of.

Now you're not here and I can't help but wonder
If it really was my fault
Or if you maybe played a little part.

I don't look for somewhere to place the blame.
I'll take it because I know I can handle it
But you know I'm not strong enough to be alone.

So maybe there is something better than
Summer vacations and lemonade,
Spring break and flowers and bees,
Winter and frost and cocoa
Autumn and colors and leaves.

Maybe when you loved me
Nothing bad could ever happen.
Maybe your words had the power to erase hurt and hopelessness.
Maybe your presence blocked out the fear in my heart.
Maybe when I was with you, I was truly happy.


I don't know. I'll try and think of something better to write the next time I do this. Which will hopefully be soon. I want to keep this up.
I've already said that.
Good night...