This Post was Inspired by Carole Maso

Sometimes, it's difficult to post on the blog.

It means so much. Every word must count.

Trim the fat.

No more waste.

There is too much to write about because there are too many words.

But the only word I know that must be written is:

Today.

Today--

I did not make butter and

Today--

I tried to solve a problem. Maybe it was a mystery.

Mysteries are mysteries because they haven't been solved.

I did not solve the problem.

It is a mystery.

But a mystery is a mystery because there is a chance.

Solved.

What was meant by Unsolved Mysteries?

In the back seat of Guy's car, there was wrapping paper.

I wanted to wrap my fist in it and unwrap my fist and say: You shouldn't have!

I tried calling Dad, but he didn't answer.

Stella and Warden saw something that I couldn't and started barking.

They wouldn't stop.

Or maybe, that was a dream I had on Christmas night.

The bed seemed unusually hard.

I was thinking about words.

Then, they meant nothing.

I wanted a glass of water.

But glass and water meant nothing.

My sister called.

She is worried about me.

She says I don't care about anything anymore.

She says I'm quiet. She says I should get my haircut.

I eat ice cream instead.

Sometimes, before the day even starts.

You know that it'll be a good day or a bad day or just another day.

All are tragedies.

A good day is a good day because most days aren't. A good day ends with bitterness.

A bad day is a bad day because of the heart.

Just another day means that you've given up.

Giving up is not quite failing. It's a compromise.

Compromising means your scared.

Fear is necessary.

What I'm trying to say.

Something's happening.

Always.

It is always hard to make out your face in a crowd.

You walk past yourself.

You think: I've seen that person somewhere before. On the news?

At least once in your life, you've walked past a mirror and stopped and really took yourself in, and staring into your own eyes, you've become scared.