Bottles and Writing

It's odd, because bottles tend to turn up in my writing lately. I'm not sure why, but they seem to work well. I haven't had a writing frenzy like this since senior year of high school. My best piece back then was about a guy I thought I loved. Everyone who has read it likes it, but I don't show it to many people. It's nothing profound. Simply about a walk in Washington DC and a hug that meant the world to me. Ironically he hugged me again when we ran into each other recently and it was just a hug. Didn't have any meaning to me. I think most people know who this is, if not, I can't say it here because you would probably know him or someone related to him.

Anyway, hugs are nice. I like hugs, especially the long kind.

We have moved on from poetry to short stories in class. I love the piece I just created. Unfortunately it hits a little too close to home and is a little too obviously related to someone to post here. So why would I be willing to share it with a class of strangers? Well they don't know it's based in reality and they don't know who it would relate to. So it's safe.

I wrote it awhile ago. Maybe early September? But I had to edit it to fit the assignment tonight. It was really difficult. I had to put on my sad playlist. Still, I couldn't go to that place I was at back then. I couldn't feel it. But I could still put myself in the other character's place. Isn't that weird? It makes me wonder if I have changed since then. I will say that the end is the only part that is not real, but if it were real, the conversation would sound almost identical to the one I wrote...almost. Craziness.

Craziness...I like that word.
I should sleep, but can't.
I also feel impulsive and the fact that I haven't given everything I've written away is pretty amazing. So stopping now, because I really want to say...stuff. Stopping. Now.

Voting No on 1!!!!!