I want to catch fireflies again. I want to run through my backyard chasing the lights that come and go- always just out of grasp.

I miss going on walks. Talking with friends deep into the night. Sitting on benches and writing our futures.

My windows are open, there is a cool breeze that sweeps through the room, it takes my mind with it. If I could fly. If I could make my way to the coast. To the ocean. To warm air and soft beaches...

It has tasted like Spring the last few days. It doesn't smell like it, occasionally it will look like it, but it tastes of Spring. As I breath in deep, as the oxygen fills my lungs, Spring is there.

I need a Spring.

I live in an oven.

But not just an oven, this is an oven that melts stuff. Like metal. Like tungsten I can melt tungsten in my room.

The melting point of tungsten is 6150 degrees Fahrenheit.


So I meant to post this post awhile ago, and then I started hating everything I wrote so it got lost. I still am not a huge fan of my writing right now but....

"Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate" (Abandon all hope ye who enter here) 
I guess putting what Dante said was inscribed above the gates of hell as the opening to my blog isn't the best idea.
But I guess if I set the expectations low enough you won't be disappointed, right?