I woke up this morning much like I do every other morning. Sometime back I went back to a blog about 5 years old. It was a blog I created in highschool from the years 2003-2008 with my last entry on New Years. Fads, dreams, goals, crushes, love, hate, fear, terror, despair, anguish, joy and more were contained within the numerous entries. 5 years of sentient thought, poems, essays, writings and documentation on various aspects I found important. I went into the options and flagged it for automatic deletion. It will be gone in 48 hours they say and I'm still waiting. Poems and stories are of no value to me anymore.

You see, I've come to a realization in the past year and its something that's always been there lurking. I've been holding myself back alot. When I was younger, I used to be so very different. I used to beat up the bigger kids because they were messing around with the smaller kids. In our old apartment complex, I was the sheriff. Hearing that now makes me laugh, because that's the concept that children have when they assume they have power. Even today we have a lot of children disguising themselves as adults and its always the same.

Deep down, I'm a greedy, angry, pessimistic, jealous person. I respect that part of me more than the front I try to hold up. Somewhere along the way when we moved to Texas, I shut off the normal me and tried to adapt and fit in to a society and culture I was not accustomed to. But for the first time ever, I've really considered letting go and removing the limitations I've put into my personality. I'm normally pretty quiet, reserved, polite and respectfull(sometimes, lol).

In my experiences, I have discovered that much like the rain falling right now, life is never what you want it to be. It's never like what you think it might be like. Anything you hope or dream for is wishfull thinking and you are but a meager existence that is likened unto that of a simple raindrop falling. You have your height at creation and then have a long spiral downfall from dark clouds until you splatter on someone's windshield or land in a pool with every other drop that's just like you, claiming to be unique. You're awash in a sea of filth and bacteria and piss, because in the swimming pool, children have no respect--and I won't even go into what else floats in the deep.

I'm sitting back and taking a stance my friend has held for such a time. Hakuna Matatta he says. I'm inclined to agree that it is a very respectable stance and one I find myself drawn to more and more. Should I care about people or others? Not necessarily. It makes life much more happier when I'm concerned about just me. So should I continue caring about others and believing in people? Always and never.

I'm getting back into writing more, it seems, which isn't always a naturally good thing. I find when I'm in those "moods" I write a lot more. It takes a lot to get me back into writing and storytelling, whether it be paper and pencil on a shakey desk or a dusty keyboard covered with powdered fingerprints and clouds that smoke when the keys are hit with a furious ambition. I'm partial to the clicking that a typewriter makes but they always jam on me.

5 Years of writing, poems, love, hate, despair, agony, ambition and animosity, piled with regrets, fears and plagues. 5 years of sentient, conscious and cognitive proceeses stacked and organized, categorized by date, year and time and detailing my life and its existence to now. According to their admins, it will be deleted in 48 hours. 48 hours to reminisce before that part of my life is abandoned to a fog that will cloud over and remain lost forever. To me it's just poems and short stories. Words. Back then they meant something. Back then they were a part of me that I held very dear. It was an outlet and place to speak about what was on my mind.

Words are simple things. They can be replaced and shifted to whatever I wish, imbued with new meanings and definitions and thats exactly what I'll do. I'm replacing my history with what I want it to be and none will be the wiser. Because if documentation ceases to exist, what really happened is up in the air, isn't it? I'm killing the old me by erasing its existence in my mind and by doing so am removing all those little limitations that have held me back; limitations, which I have put on myself.

With that said, I go back to the grinding stone. Nostalgia is what I'll simply chalk this up to.

Enjoy the storm clouds when they come to your town.
Summer rain is a very serence and peacefull thing.
Washing away the fear and doubt.
Clearing up the dread and sorrow from your humid/arid days.
Summer rain is like a sprinkling of happiness.
Each drop a shining friend from the sky: falling.
Carressing blades of grass like a shining star to rest on.
One day to rise, one day to fall.
Raindrops are like life.
Here one day, gone the next.
Evaporation is what it is.
And that is simply science.
In the blink of an eye.
You live. You die.
Instantly.