Dear Friend

My dearest friend,

It has been too long; I am not sure how long. I used to live immersed in the past, not I am not so comfortable glancing back, it feels like a trap. Best to keep in forward motion then right my friend? It's been nearly a year now since I last spoke to my mom, and I don't think about it much but I was sitting inside when the weather is quite nice outside, and I heard a voice deep in there saying Kristen go on outside, and I asked myself if you and I were together or on the phone where would I be and althought I cant say it would be the front yard, I don't think we would waste this day. I have been letting much go, I realized my license was expired, how did I let go? I stopped recognizing myself, but really nothing has changed. I went from sitting outside in my camping chair on my platform outside in Lynn to this writing in my journal, writing to you tears in my eyes both times. Maybe it is that no matter where I am, I will be sitting in a pocket outside trying to put into words the various indescribeable sensations pulsing inside my soul, the things I want to know, that I want others to know. The things that still have nowhere to go, and I question where I am and wehre you are and if that distance is very far? Did I stall out? Did you stall out? Is this just self-doubt? The leaves are dry, and still, I have tears to cry. I long for a life I can no longer envision, let alone secure provision. I am not sure what I convinced myself of, if I am so far off the path that everything has stopped and seize to exist, but how can that be? it must be that the path forms around me. Until then my friend I guess I will sit at this bend, and hope for the end. I am not sure which end, but an end that creates a new beginning I suppose. I suppose I should make use of myself and do some cleaning around the rose bushes while the air is breathable and things feel easy and slow.

Until next time, the end.