There's a rush flowing through my body. A sudden feeling of adrenaline flowing through every nook and cranny. I read my old blog posts and I'm loving it all. I read through everything in it. I examined every word with a magnifying glass and put them in little test tubes to test for any viruses or overlooked emotions. I find myself growing over constant periods of time. Loving more that's living. Living more to love. My words are becoming strange and breaking into tiny pieces, making it harder for my readers to understand whats going through my head. I'm liking this. I'm loving my mysterious, cryptic messages. Not even you can tell what I'm saying. I want my messages to be kept to myself. As I grow I notice the growth in my own personal language. No longer do I turn to overused, big words to describe myself in the clearest way possible. My language becomes fluent and easily typed out within a matter of seconds. I wait for someone to decipher it all. I wait... My hands ache every day to type out something that's been stored in my head for weeks, but when they get to their home, they lose all energy, making me forget what I wanted to say, what I wanted to show all along. I can feel it all. I can feel it building up inside me creating some dream that only plays when my eyes are open. When my mind is far away from here, I can see it all. I can see the stairs. I can see you calling my name asking me for my hand. I see you falling and me running to help you up but then there is a sudden pause. Your gone. You can't read what I'm saying. Nothing but subtitles run along the invisible screen, controlled by some outside force that was never there to begin with. My words run into each other like a chaotic intersection, creating one big huge mess of a call for help. Where did you go? Why can you not hear me anymore? Why are you so far away? I thought you needed my help. The beats start. A small tapping of a drum. I lose my thought and I begin to feel revitalized. I'm energized. It's not the end. I must go on my search. Not to find you, but to find myself. Because I know when I find myself, you will be there. You will be standing on your own two feet, just like I will be in the end. I will be there in the end. So many words want to be voiced but I know that they will all have their own time to shine. Giving me only but a few seconds to really think if they should be spoken or not. I run through the script realizing that I'm only one person and no one controls this channel of thought but me. The b flat starts playing in a 4/4 measure and I can feel myself starting to build the adrenaline up again. The guitar starts playing, the drums come together, the keyboards begin and I'm off.


Here I am. As real as ever. As revitalized as ever. Believe me. Read me. I'm ready.