It's easy to be a troubled writer; it's far more difficult to be a happy one.

This is the place I need to be. Nothing matters to me anymore in this curriculum state of mind. I could take on the world tomorrow fully equipped, and I could lose, but the result would be all mine. I've earned this life I've yet to live. I'm eager now to simply live it.

The things I need are far from the usual. I need my guardian and that which makes him weak. I need my livelihood, and those who make me certain in my path. I need my guidepost. How unfortunate that 80% of my heart lies 60 miles removed. It's for them that I remain grounded; it's for them that I brave face the "See you soon" mentality. My days and weeks are devoted to the days and weeks where you can be my life once again.

December's so cold, but my baited anticipation is enough to light it brighter than any front lawn. I feel its effects now, even as I run under sunlight.

Nothing can take me hostage when it's near.