An open letter to myself,

It's not often we feel the urge to sit down and write like this anymore. In Fact that phrase in particular was something, I felt the need to immortalize in my favorite medium. I'm sitting in my living room with my mother and sister. The three of us had been smoking and drinking the stress of the day away. Kahlua our boxer had crawled into Kierstin's lap after the cat bullied her off the chair. And I couldn't help but think that this moment was some I'd look back on forever.

Maybe this memory will slowly fade away into a broad story we tell about Kahlua. And yet I can't help but feel that this bliss this perfect moment will live on forever. Perhaps it exists in streaks of morning sunlight, or midnight conversations, or maybe its a cup of coco on the porch swing as we watch the sunrise.

A continuation.

I have a line bouncing around in my head, in all actuality it was that line. See I figured if I wrote it down maybe it would take me somewhere, lead me on this great adventure with interesting characters, magic spells and whatever else I could dream up. But I realize that I write my best when I manage to just talk. It's like I'm finally being honest and maybe that makes me okay. And who knows if anyone would find this relatable anyway. However I believe that somewhere someone understands and that helps.

Sometimes.