February 20th

February 20, 2010

It has been months since I last looked at this journal. Months since I even thought of it. Why I choose to write in it now? I cannot say. Perhaps I feel as though the pages of this book deserve such. What is a book if its pages are empty? What is the paper if it is not filled with words? They mean little when not given that which they are destined for.

Ah so much to say, and so little space. I could fill this entire book with all that has happened since the last time I wrote in it. So much has come to pass. So little has been gained, yet so much as been lost. Saying good-bye is never easy, especially when you are not ready in your heart.

Small stains dot the page to smear the ink