My Blabbering Mind..."No, I'm trying to talk. Would you just..."

So, I can never decide what I really want to do. I need some sort of literary enrichment so I head over to my roommate’s bookshelf but can’t decide on anything to read there, so here I am. I figure, if I can’t find anything good to read then maybe I can write something really good. Now, let’s see…
I never expected this to happen, then again, who ever expects these things to happen? But here I am, looking back at the expanse of my existence and ready to write down my most exciting adventure of all. I figure that writing is the best way to preserve my memory of it, so I’ll believe that it happened to me one day when I look back on things.
It starts about a year ago; I had just come into a small town near Depoe Bay, Oregon…
Well, that didn’t work. I started listening to classical music—love it. Problem is, I can't just sit down and make myself have an idea—funny as that seems. As much as I’d like to call myself a writer, I cannot because I really only have two full-fledged ideas: Myra and Linnea. I’m afraid not many people know about them, though, I’m sure it would help if I actually finished those ideas.
It makes no sense. I can feel it all. The passion, the determination, the love—I want to write about all of it. Destiny—fulfilling the hopes of an entire people, love—fulfilling the hopes of just one person, passion—not romantic, but the passion to live, to be, to change, and to become. I want to show the world the life that I live in my head. Sometimes, when I’m listening to music, I turn a walk home from school into something so euphoric and delicious that I don’t even understand it. Today I was walking home and listening to some Emo music. It really had nothing to do with the music, but the setting and the sounds and my exhilaration at coming home just filled me and everything was beautiful. The snow on the ground, though old, was glistening and the pavement stood out from it beautifully. The juxtaposition of the natural and ancient and the manmade world overwhelmed me and I felt like I was one point in the world—this magnificent world that our Father in Heaven so mercifully blessed us with. Are all skies that beautiful? Is pavement always so bewitching and we’re just too busy walking on it to notice? Okay, so I’m not usually this existential, but I was just thinking about it I guess. I want to have a perfectly filled life. Who wakes up in the morning and decides that they want to not feel so much today? I don’t understand why we let ourselves go so numb from our life experiences that we no longer feel. Oh yes, I do it—all the time. But I want so much to feel, to breathe, to really live. More than that, I want to be able to pour it onto pages for others to feel and understand. Please world! Show me that you still have a heart, instead of two eyes and a vague urge to do something with your life.
Great, now I’ll never feel justified watching TV….

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