It’s down to just one thing.

There is so much i do not do that i should be doing. Writing for one. God i want to write. i want to be a writer someday, and even if no one ever reads my stuff, i want to write something beautiful and soul shattering and redeeming. i want to be able to read it and then be able to die without my death ever being in vain.

There are so many things i can never do. And right now i feel like i am swimming in them. No, before i felt like i was swimming in them. Now i feel like i am drowning in them.

Last night i asked Justin what happened to us, and he said “we graduated,” and he was right.

But at the same time, this past month has been the most intellectually stimulating i have had. i have been able to talk about literature and philosophy and politics and life and love and death and how all of it is beauty. And sometimes i feel so guilty and silly and Dorothy because i felt like i fled to New York to find these things, and all along they were in my own back yard.

And i am thinking about Chuck non-stop. How fortunate i am not only to have met my hero and mentor but to be able to almost know him. To have him almost know me.

And there is so much in my heart that wants to devour me and keep my tied to the past and to my pain. And i finally found a job and it is stupid, but i still have one. And i am lonely and sad and i think about these things a lot, but i still have my books.

There is so much lurking inside. Ready to jump out. There is pain and dark. And there is joy too. Mostly there are words.. and i want to write. Just one thing good. One thing beautiful.

And i want him to remember me always because his presence is always around my neck and in my heart.

And i will always have my friends and my books, and what else is there?

“You make this all go away.“