My handwriting is notoriously unreadable, so I decided to try a hand at typing instead with the idea of decluttering my thoughts. My thoughts are still a hopeless mess but they are now, at least, a semi-legible mess.
The sight of two men casually chatting beneath the giant wings of an airplane looked comical. — Takeoff has always been the most exciting part. It’s the plane, gaining speed every second, roaring down the strip, nose pointed up. It’s the change in angle, the steady incline gradually steeping. For ...
Ah...terrible ideas abound. So this is what all the great bards rhapsodize in song and all the great writers fantasize in the written word? This—this endless irritation and restlessness? What about this horrendous turmoil incites poetry? Prose? Most importantly: Why did I ever allow myself to be s...
Or, a collection of lofty ideas. — My dearest, (as I had hoped to call him as I fretted over the term; as I didn’t call him for fear—damned fear!) I was out visiting family today and, when I found a quiet moment to myself, my thoughts could not help but wander miles and miles away to the boy i...
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