It’s been years. I’m envious of my past self…but happy to be here at this time. I don’t even know if that makes sense at all. I use to write about my life, and my friends…I didn’t care who read it or if my grammar was horrible. I just wanted to come home that day and type my entries into whatever it was I was using to blog at the time.

It was all random really, college was random, fun random.

I get stuck in what people say when I write something, grammar does matter…even I like to fix little errors. But I miss the carefree manner that I used to write. So I end up forcing myself, to say something, something that needs to come out, something, just write something.

I’ve plotted out stories in my mind with characters and different kinds of situations…but I haven’t written any of them.

And this blog…sucks.

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