So, I wont say anything.

"You matter as much as the things that matter to you do.
And I got so backwards, trying to make myself matter to him.
All this time, there were real things to care about: real, good people who care about me and this place. It's so easy to get stuck.You just get caught up in being something, being special or cool of whatever, to the point where you don't even know why you need it; you just think you do."

Tell me, where are the crossroads, my dear?

Where do we go from here

It is 2:38pm
I have a deadline for an article at 4:15pm
I'm skipping a class so i can be able to make this deadline.
I really shouldn't be blogging.

There is a reason I am not a newspaper journalism major, and frankly, it is because i hate that boring newspaper shit. which is why im here blogging instead of meeting my 4:15 deadline.

I like words that paint pictures and break down barricades of imaginations.
I like when you read words are phrases over and over, and feel them more
and more
everytime.

I like words that make beauty, not words that report the mundane news that confirms that the world is really just as cruel as they say it is.

I dont want to write about statistics of poverty and death tolls in two thousand words.
I dont want to write about the failing economy and the depression of the people in times new roman 12 point font.
I dont want to write about that shit.
I want to write something deep from the depths of my mind, something too deep for a keyboard and too heavy for a sheet of paper...
but I cant do that, because, honestly...I want to write checks too.


The grim reality that is life.
so im back to meeting that 4:15 deadline