***WARNING: The first bit of this is longer then I intended. For those few of you who call me friend, to save time you may want to skip below to a message to all of you. ONLY READ THE FIRST PART if you are curious as to my mental background to this message!***

You know... it would be nice to give good news for a change. One would think that after all this time of being away and not writing I would be inspired. I am inspired...although I would have preferred to have been inspired by success. Over four years of University and not a degree to show for it; it is very disappointing. I am glad for the experience, but the norm is to have a sheet of paper in a fine folder to show your learning.

I would offer this up as a sacrifice to my muse who art cold and demanding; an excuse for absent poet's heart...a life most heartless and cold. I cannot do that. All I can do is take in all the emotion I can and be sure to share it with the world as best I can. Well... to share with the very few who grace my page to read my work.

I once thought, five years ago, that I would be published by now. A conceit of a man who has a talent many wish they had. I do not consider myself a genius, although I would like to be; nor a historic monument of english literature, although I dream to be. But as my title suggests, time moves too quickly for me.

At 23, I have little to my name beyound experience; as a writer experiences that make one weep, curl up, and wish to die...those are experiences best shared so those who may venture through life may steel themselves for the dangers ahead. Although how much warning a fool who wanders the minefield is worth is not within by ability to appraise.

Many times, I felt shame for having such sad emotions. Seeing life through blueberry shades with a few streaks of black and sepia tone for realism. The "emo" stigma tainting my dreams...the "cheating-boyfriend" guilt tainting my ego...and the "college failure" shame tainting my heart. I cannot allow the shame to overwhelm my visions. Even if I write on this digital page for til the end of its lifespan and never be recognized or rewarded for it...it is my duty to at least attempt to share it.

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Now, a far more brief word for those old friends whom I wish I still had.
And the new friend who I wish I was better to.
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From my final years of high school thru my university years: I made friend with many inspirational people. I do not mean to flatter, I mean it truthfully. I met people, both men and women, who gave me a reason to have hope for humanity's poetic heart. Artists in your various ways: writing, photography, drawing, acting, musical, verbal. There is not a sad day that goes by that I do not suddenly remember you kind and wonderful people.

Many times I wanted my life to end...but what kept me alive was your very existence...the knowledge that there are people like you who could make me smile by sheer memory of your kindness and tolerance.

For friend both new, who I have precious few left to me, and old, who I wish I still associated with on day to day affairs, I thank you all for simply being who you are.

Thank you for being You.

Without You, I would have stopped this poetic heart for lack of reason to express it. Every last one of you will always be the true inspiration for all the writing I have done and will do. Thank you for the lifeblood that is your words, your smiles, and your lives.

If ever it be in my power to repay you, I will do my utmost to do so. If I have to live 100 years just to pay your descendants...then I will simply have to.