Copy Cat

I’ve been thinking of why I am starting this piece of writing.  Is it because of the beautiful ebb and flow of my little sister’s writing on her blog?  Or is it yet another- probably failed- attempt to try to untangle the twisted pieces of my mind? I have about seven half filled journals and in all honesty, I prefer putting pen to paper rather than tapping away on a keyboard.  I love those books.  The smell.  The feel of the paper between my fingers.  The cramp in my hand after I’ve been scribbling furiously for hours…

But there is something to be said for the ease of moving words across a screen.  It is invigorating to know that I could share all of these ideas and plans and fears with the whole world with just the click of the button.  But who would care?  Maybe no one.  Maybe everyone.  I am simply a small scrape on the outer circle of humanity.  A circle that is filled with art and numbers and culture and thoughts and feelings and love that I may never experience or understand.  But that outer circle, that thin filament is made up of all those who are lost in their ideas and plans and fears.  Those who- like me- seek recognition, or even just want to feel something.  We who can disappear and reappear.  We who have the strength to pursue happiness despite our many challenges but the weakness to give up and just let go.  Maybe some who wander have a purpose, but all wanderers are lost.


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