I don’t write anything for other people. I just realized that right now. I never do. I only write for myself. It is selfish really. I don’t write so others understand my thoughts. I only write so I don’t go completely crazy. When I sit down at a computer and just type and type until I fingers hurt, I really am pouring my heart out to, well, myself! When I reread anything I write, I immediately feel the pain, the joy, the emotions, that I was feeling when I originally wrote it down. Why do I always write such dark things? Poems about broken hearts and stories of betrayal? Why can’t I simply write like a normal person? Why can’t I just write like how I would tell somebody a story? Why must I always sound like I am soon to commit a crime of murder or suicide? Why does my mind want me to feel such grief when in all honesty, I am simply feeling as high as a kite and happy? Even I don’t understand my own thoughts. I can understand the emotions behind them, but rarely the thoughts. The human mind is an odd place I suppose. It is a place where nothing makes sense but yet is all understood. Maybe one day the human mind will be able to process all this. Maybe I am just thinking too much into thoughts I don’t understand. Maybe this entire paper is just a waste of my time and yet I need it to keep my sanity! So here it is, my 15 minutes wasted on this paper instead of on my Psychology homework. Maybe tonight I will get it all done. Maybe I will fail. Maybe I don’t know what my future holds and maybe I do. Maybe I am crazy, or maybe I am sane. Who knows? Only time can tell! Here I come time, here I come!