something about being in love takes a piece out of you. in my case, it was the piece that could write. when i look at the entries from days of yore, i cant seem to believe they came out of my brain. i miss being able to pluck description out of grey matter so easily. i can still do it. the difference...it takes effort. these days, and since the others.. i am still with the mystery man from 2006 i love him just as much if not more i question everything, but not myself so much i struggle to regain what i have lost i took pictures for my major, good ones i stopped taking pictures and decided to look for good words instead my father walked out on us the day after christmas i was not sorry to see him go i have turned my passions into dispassions and feel purposeless it makes me angry i am trying not to be a sheep. still.