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Another day of strangely slow dissipation. I'm changing again. I can feel it. I will again be different next time we meet. I know that there are a great many twists and turns ahead. I look into the blackness with intensity.

It seems like we never talk about each other's lives. We talk about the things that we interact with, in our world. But I think could stand to hear about your life, if you would share.

I remembered, as C___ and I passed out of P____, that I contemplated tracking down my deadbeat dad and showing him what I'd become. Sitting on top of my bike, somehow the same boy with eyes that look into him. But I still find it's not time, at least not in the way it might've seemed. And I can't spend too much time on what little dried mud is left clinging to my ankles.

So check the heat of your ambition, and tell me if it's still warm, because you are the one who awakened the fire in me, not so very long ago.

I could draw the meaning out of a world of music, and sing my life together at their seams. But I bet you're sick of hearing me speak in the words of others, and it's time to make my own. Give it a little while. And I would die for a chance to share your thoughts.

For things to change, there has to be something new. New thoughts, new dreams, new sights, and eventually, a new world. This is what I'll be thinking about when I get out of here on Monday.