Written sometime in May

There’s something magical about sunsets and car rides and moons and stars and skys and clouds. One of those something specials that screams, sing me a song and sit with me and watch me as I fall asleep next to you.

Its’ that voice that won’t go away that I’ve never actually heard but knows exists because it has to. It Simply Has To.

“Even a simpleton knows, but me, i am stubborn.”

It’s a mental block. Almost like a sort of writer’s block, on the brain.

If you try too hard, it doesn’t work. If you take a break for too long it doesn’t go away, it just doesn’t come as easy. You’ve gotta rework those muscles. They’re out of shape. They’re straining to be stretched. They’re screaming to be used. And its sad, but you just don’t do it. its not that you don’t care. Its that you have no energy. or _____. That’s it. you have no _____. Or not enough.

And then she got up and walked away.

There are memories and scenes and songs and people and words and laughter and so much that I hope I will never forget…but I know that I will. There are so many things….so many people in actions factions reactions that I never want to lose. But its…I’m…losing. Grip. Now. Already. Two and a half minutes after the thought and three minutes after the word. Its gone. I hate this. I really do. i get so caught up with the shoulds and woulds and coulds and everything else cliché in this world that I forget that “big picture”…me and my idealistic self. so i’m told. nope, i still don’t understand.