Today i realized i'm an awful poet. and an awful writer. and now i have no idea what i'm doing with my life. what am i doing!?!?

And then there he stood in front of the class all balding and grey haired and for some incredibly unknown reason i was overcome by the urge to ask him, "was i really so awful to him so that he hates me now?"

As if this stranger full of poetry would know. As if any of the million people i've asked would know.

You haven't answered me yet.

I have a secret journal although i'm not inclined to secrets and all i write about is you. Even more so than here.