If the world would give me one hour left to write about something before running out for the day, what would I write, what would I share, to myself, and to those that are like me?
Of course the beach, call me crazy, call me needy and clingy, to this dream of mine, I completely agree. Maybe I haven’t really grown out of it. Innocent memories of running on white sand with them boys and girls, swimming while laughing, drinking salt water on multiple accidents, and the sound of those waves as the sun begins to hide. Now, I am all grown up, counting down day by day until it reaches another increment of my age. I still can’t quite understand, just yesterday I was sitting here, writing the same thing about my life, as always, the cloud is grey, sort of like limbo, you hop in hop out, like a clown, until the day I no longer frown. And yes, it is January again. Oh dear..
I suppose I don’t really know how to explain mother nature the best way I can. I guess this is practice writing? Of course, everyday is a practice writing for me.
How interesting is this? Sitting in an office full of hardware, five different phone devices, two xbox’s, four monitors, 2 computers, a song that suddenly set back the moments, and music sheets that are meant to be played but not yet played. She feels more lonely than I do.
Surfacing happiness is what my Mother encourages. Yet, at times, I sit here, full of beautiful thoughts? And portray unrealistic dreams, fantasy life, and impossible future.
I swear, darker sky will reveal soon, one head shake, and I’m back in the matrix.






