So I was right about a couple of things. The first is that I’m embarrassed. If I weren’t me, I might think that I’m “off my rocker”. And I’ll always allow for the possibility that I am, but I still think that I’m not.

Today two of my roommates mentioned my blog to me. One asked me if I was “falling” last night, because of how furiously I was typing, and the said that they weren’t sure what to say because saying that it was “good” had already been labeled “bullshit”. Another friend told me that it was “honest, and good, but not great”. A third encouraged me to write more of what I’ll regret because that stuff’s her favorite; my dad said that, “for at least half the days, or more, my string should not pull on you, because my love for you has done the pulling that day, and you were with me and I did hold you and I did sing to you because I will love you for always and like you forever and my baby you'll always be”, which I think is maybe the most beautiful thing. Of course everything I write will be heard differently in different ears. And none of the sounds are wrong. But it is important that this is understood; honesty is the stag of my pursuit. I’m not on a mission to make known my emotions or thoughts. Not honesty in the details of life, but Honesty of life. As experience speaks to me about learning to love, fear, travel, share, hide, cry, and hold hope, then I’ll speak back in and through the only medium that I  can—and that’s this. I can’t sing in the shower or play the guitar in the dark or capture lights on paper, but my fingers can reach all of the keys without getting too far away from my heart.

Last night I said something that was true, even though it may not be today. I go to history class, I play fart-tennis, and I’ll say the DUMBEST thing if it means girls will laugh—the strings and hooks and hearts were true, because I felt them, but I’m not the dude who had all those chains around himself when he was warning Scrooge.  They were there last night, when a lot collided with a lot, and I knew that if I was feeling this thing, then someone else had probably felt it as well. And if would be so shortsighted as to write it on the internet, then maybe that person and I could tug twice on our strings to say “I know”.