So as a potential cure for my seasonal depression, I thought that maybe I should go back to writing- finally.
Wow, I don't even remember the last time that I posted! It all seems to be a vague memory simply floating around in my mind. It actually reminds me of something I just received in the mail: my letter to myself. Now I had written this long, fairly vague, and in all actuality, quite useless letter to myself last year in Sociology. Ms. Syme had told us that she would be mailing our letters to us this Christmas as she collected our hastily-written and much procrastinated scribbles as well as that of our bestest friends. Now back that of our bestest friends... So, Alison and Nate both wrote me letters. Now, I'm not quite sure if this is a proverb or not, but there really should be something about "You can judge a character by the style and content of their writing," or something to that effect. Simply from reading those letters I could see that other than perhaps the latest situation at hand, or the juicy gossip of the now, nothing had changed, and for that matter, nothing will. It gives me immense confidence to realize that in 4 years as I am awaiting my graduation from college (probably with not nearly as much pleasure as I have awaiting my departure from Athens High School), that Nate will still be complaining that I "heavily persuaded" him into doing something last minute that he very well absolutely did not want to do.
There is so much more to write, so so much more. But as I feel my eyelids droop, I sense that deep within me, that writer's block that had situated itself so comfortably during my attempts to write college essays, may have nudged. Albiet slightly, but who knows? Maybe all those pent-up thoughts, mirroring the forthcoming wind and ice, will simply not deign to be contained in my head anymore and release in a torrent of words.
Perhaps?
