I can’t believe this is my one hundredth post. That I was able to stay focused on something for this long.
In honor of my one hundredth post I decided to go back and read my first. It’s… well I’m pretty sure the poem I posted isn’t actually a poem. It’s just some thoughts put into stanzas. But a year and three months later and I still feel the same way about a blank screen. It’s funny how some things never change, and others alter so drastically that you’re hardly the same person you were before.
100 posts. They really took me some wonderful places. London and Paris and Salzburg and Edinburgh. Not to mention home with family and college with friends. They took me through finals when you got basically nothing from me as well as times of complete boredom that resulted in frequent bouts of random. They took me through my excitements, my complaints, my questionings, my philosophizings. I don’t know if anyone out there cares that much or reads this because what I’m saying is intersting, but it’s been both of those things to me. So I imagine I’ll keep writing. This isn’t even close to the end, I have a feeling its only a begining.