The book

A lot of my friends here are into creative writing and poetry and so a friend of mine bought a composition notebook and leaves it out with the purpose of everyone writing in it.

BTW this is awesome and everyone should do it... just saying.

Anyway, when I post "from the book" it means that it's something I wrote for the book first. I'm just putting it on the blog for you all and as an archive.

In the book #1

Ideas surge through the mind in
A wave of unstoppable force
Pulsing, moving -
Pulling you to Doubt

One you've never known -
One you just met -
One as curious
As open

His eyes shone with wonder -
Radiating from the speeding
Cogs of cognition -
Bends and bounces

Round that physical sanctum
Before pushing its way
Past the veil of Ideas
Into the minds of those nearby

And He cannot contain
His excitement

Emotion

I'm a slight extrovert which means that I draw my energy from being with other people -

This is definitely true - I most certainly don't want to be alone at this moment

That being said, there is not a single person in my life I can think of - parents, new friends, old friends, sibling, mentors, god knows who else - that I can think of that I want to be around/talk to right now.

What I realized is that force myself not to fall subject to the fundamental attribution error and don't place blame on others. Though this is a great policy in general, it leaves me either with nowhere to point a finger, or pointing it at myself. Depression turns to the emotion of anger and self loathing. But, since there is no external attribution, all it leads to is confusion. A baseless emotion.

An emotion that cannot be understood, cannot be controlled.

And uncontrolled, unmonitorable, emotion is confusing
And frustrating

And is a weakness.

And I hate that I think that.

Things about you

It's been a long time since I've wrote to you
Or thought about you
Or been one with you.

It's been a long time since I've shared with you
And thought with you
And laughed with you.

It's been a long time since
My world has been thrown into
Such creative confusion

I live in an intellectual whirlwind -
Skipping from gust to gust
And never finding a branch
To hold on to

I don't even know if
I should be
Looking

Everyone's different
Everything's interesting
And
Nothing is easy

I like these people
I like this here

I miss the silence