Drafts of the Insomniac

I guess I am supposed to write about my heart. But I'm afraid of what my heart has to say. I'm fearful to write this post because I truly do mean the words I am typing on the screen. I do not know exactly what my heart wants to say. Not this week. Not any week. I feel like I do the exact same thing every week. But I don't know any other way. I sit at my computer and stare at the screen for a few hours because I want to make my writing good. I want people to comment and tell me its really good and I want Nelson to put it in the top five. I have been told a few times that my writing is good. And I do truly believe that there are some people who think my writing is good. But overall, I feel like it is my heart I try to impress most often. I write and write and write and I feel like the more I write, the more unimpressed I am with myself. I don't feel adequate enough for myself. And because of that, I don't feel adequate enough for the class or for Nelson or my pare

"There's a spirit in Montana and in your chest,  a note. That rings out like the bells of  cathedrals rung by the village scapegoat." "Montana" - Youth Lagoon With the class, I sat down at the pond. I closed my eyes and let my other senses do the seeing. I heard cars and ducks. Smelled the pond water. I felt the crisp air on my hands and on my face. The air tasted clean. Nature has a most beautiful spirit about it. It's so wonderful that St. Nick is jealous. Nature also has a dream. It's dream is to provide life and beauty and feelings and inspiration. I used to dream of becoming a hero. One that everyone would adore. I would be rich and people would want my autograph. Well, I don't know if my motives have changed or if I have changed. But I'm pretty sure it's for the better.  My dream has become a dream that will make me happy. It will come by making other people happy. My dream is to help others fulfill theirs. A dream for world

"Something touched me deep inside, the day the music died" ~Don McLean I remember the day the music died. It was a rainy day and my grandpa's casket was falling six feet deep into the ground. The ground that now held broken heart shards and tears. My dad told me that duct tape and a sharpie can fix just about anything. But a life is not one of those things. While the soldiers were in Germany worryied about making it to the end and living to see their families, people were drinking and partying. Wasting their lives away, not knowing that over 6 million innocent people are being martyred for believing in their God. The ignorance of the human race is astounding. I remember the day the music died. It was a rainy day. My mom said we were moving. I was going to have to leave my friend and my second grade crush. I remember the day the music died. It was a rainy day. My grandma's casket fell six feet deep. The ground held more tears and a comple