Bring it back to me...

I was asked why I still do this. You know, spit out words on this thing that is not a blog, which takes pride in its inherent anonymity. And my answer has always stayed the same. Because no matter how small or insignificant my words are, they are still part of the beauty of finding oneself through writing and reading. Coming here day after day helped me discover that my longings are universal, that I'm never truly lonely and isolated from anyone. I belong here, with all of you, repeating words and running in circles. For inside all of us there is the need and the desire to be heard, to have our innermost thoughts, feelings and fantasies expressed for others to hear, to see and to understand. We all want to matter to someone, to leave a mark. This is mine.

As he dares to look around him, really taking in his surroundings, it looked like the world was covered in a cobbler crust of brown sugar and cinnamon. Summer was indeed coming to an end, and with it his latest foyer into the unknown. He still cannot quite grasp the magnitude of it - perhaps it will be easier to write about once he comes back home. But as always, when fall comes, kicking summer out on its treacherous ass as it always does one day sometime after the midpoint of September, it stays awhile like an old friend that you have missed. It settles into your favourite chair, it takes out its pipe, covering the room with smoke and with stories of places and things done since last you met. At long last saying goodbye to what was and smiling for what has yet to come.