I sit writing this somewhere around 4am with no light in the house but the digital glare of the computer screen.  I find a need to explain myself.  To those who care and those who don’t anymore.  I am not some desperately tragic youth.  Merely lost and confused without a dream to hang my hat on.

To my mother, the dream of acting has lost itself upon your doorstep and in your inflation of my talent.  The stage while truly home to me shall never by my mistress nor my wife.  It is merely where I feel alive, but that isn’t enough.  I cheat on her with life too much.

To Bailey, Lauren and Lindsey, the dream of love unspoiled.  Bailey you showed me how to love, Lauren you showed me that I could be selfish and foolish in love, and Lindsey you showed me how to lust for life and love.

Then the dreams became a bumbling mess… I wrought havoc on the campus of MSU from dreams of professional singing, to dreams of tinkering with electronics and software to see how it works, to even dreams of theatre yet again.  I lost myself in every new girl’s eyes and they saw straight through it… My apologies to those, they know who they are.  I grasped and ham-handed any dream that might swing towards me.

Now there is only Requiem.  I search for a new dream and new goals to delve in while I lose myself to a game of digital fantasy and ignore phone calls from those who just want to know how I am doing.  How can I answer them?  I am fine yet I can not tell them how I am doing for I am doing nothing.  I am stagnant, a primordial soup waiting to produce something great or small.  And thus I do not answer the phone except for those who truly know my state and will not feel sorry for me.  I do not need pity.  I merely need a dream of adulthood, a dream of life beyond the beginning of life.  I need to embrace the man and stop hoping for someone to tell me what to do.

It is said.  It is written.  Let it be known that I live yet am not alive.  I shall continue to pick up pieces and rebuild the mosaic of my dreams.   I hope in the process I have not shattered the beautiful colors and light of those who have touched my life.

Again dwell not on this as sad… merely a fermata.  I am on hold until my composer/conductor wills me forward in the symphony of life.  God-willing, the baton shall move soon.