22

I would come here when I had something to report.

Maybe I lost track of the passion in me, maybe I've been directing it to dead-end endeavors.

I've missed the melancholy nights, as much as they haunt me. They were always what I wanted to run from.

I came here when my life was worth writing down.

But there is no middle ground, or the middle is what I was running from all along.

I got tripped up, is all.

Broken spirit, heart, and mind - I'm heading for home again.

I started here when my life demanded writing down.

I stopped because it no longer does.