First off, Happy Easter and God bless to all. I don't care whether you even believe in God or not, I still mean it.

Second is that I have been in a writing block since, well, I wrote the poem "Block." I still can't get it out. So here I figured I'd try to explain some things that I would love to write about but just cannot. I'm not even asking you to read them. I just have to get it out of me.

1. As Guster so nicely put it in "Two Points for Honesty" -- I want to be where I've never been before. There is something about going somewhere new that just totally enthralls me. I get so sick of school and home because it is the same thing... day... after day... after day. I want to do something I've never done before, every second for the rest of my life. I need something new... because this is the only thing that can fuel me.. more on that later. PS all of these really tie together but I am attempting to separate them.

2. To take take that a step further, I want to do something no one's ever done before. I want to think a thought that no one has ever thought. Purple stars dive like liquid diamonds into a vast, empty sea. I want to see something that no one has ever seen. I cannot explain it any better than that.

3. I tend to befriend those with the most knowledge, the most intrigue. The more someone can teach me, the more I want to be with that person. When someone has taught me most everything they can/wish to, I lose interest and move on. And I hate that because I feel it is not for the person that I enjoy them.. it is for what I can get out of them. And I haven't really decided exactly how guilty I should feel about that. But oh, I think the greatest feeling in the world would be to know everything there is for knowing. And I don't mean this in a distrubed, suicidal way, but I have always imagined that at death, you are allowed to know everything. A supreme complex understanding of infinity. A concept that is too obscure for even the most genius human to ever conceive.

4. I am tired of working with my mind. I want to work with my hands. I want to do things, feel things, learn things, gain things, lose things. I can't say that you get any more... sheltered, priveleged, whatever, than in American suburbs. I mean I really want to feel things. I want to wake up and know that I have meant something to someone, and that someone has meant something to me. And be okay with it.

I am totally despaired and bummed out to know that I have another year at home, at high school, before I go to college. Because I have been ready to go since four years ago. And every now and then I reach a breaking point -- the last one being the week before Christmas -- and then it passes. I know it will pass. I try to keep my mind off it; school usually does a pretty good job. But it is always there and it will always be a part of me. And gosh, I am so ready to start living.