Day two: I write.. and write.. and write.

Lately it's all I can do to scribble/type all theses thoughts down in my head. I am working on a very personal piece right now that i hope to make into something. My brother is the only one who has read its very rough beginning. It's a story so bottled up inside that it explodes out in spurts. There are a few problems though. One, I can't get down everything fast enough. It's very raw and real. And sometimes it makes me nervous and other times it makes me smile more than I should. Two, because it's so raw and real it is hard to share with literally anyone. People will think things, interpret it to mean more than It may mean. Like I said, my brother is the only one who has read it because of the fact that he can look at it with more of a literal content and editorial eye. I am writing it because it is living inside me. But I don't know yet of that means it's should be living anywhere else either.

I get that this entry (and maybe yesterday's) makes this whole Page-A-Day thing look like another work for keeping a diary. Maybe that's exactly all it will turn into. Today I did write a page/quick moment for the play I spoke of above. But like I also said before, I can't share it with the public yet. 

I'll leave you with one line.. 

"God. We were so young. We had kissed so many times before that. And so many after. But that one kiss. It set me free."