This is a poem. My writing has changed a lot.

( My soul feels like muddied snow... )

I'd like to say I've grown since my first entry, but really I'm not so sure. I find myself returning to old loves: old books and obsessions. Things that used to give me so much comfort. It's probably because I've reached a point where I have to make a lot of decisions about the future. I'm drifting away from the only person who means anything, for ( Read more... )