No All Who Wander Are Aimless

I've been around, just not here. I've seen things, found things. Things I didnt know I was looking for. Things no one told me were out there. Things not found on a map.
Number one thing I found was: I found out that The Man was an asshole. And though its embarressing to admit, I was stupid for feeling so strongly for him, really stupid.

I found New York again. Sometimes I feel like I want to break this city in half and throw it into the sun. But its the city I chose. The city I chose to wake up in every morning, and go to sleep in every night. The city I've loved since before I can rememeber. And with every panhandler comes someone to the rescue. With every downtrodden moment comes inspiration, (from strangers you'll never meet, so they wont ask for royalties. New York is an epicenter. There a few places in this world I could ever call home and they are all in a sense, another New York City. But I will tell you this, there's no place like Brooklyn.

Most importantly I found Richard. I found Richard on the train one afternoon. It was while the man was in Cambodia, I was sad, but suprisingly liberated(he was an asshole). Richard is my personal cheerleader. Beloved by all my friends without trying to be. He is almost perfect. But he has flaws...which I love.

I found that I dont have health insurance. Luckily I got hit by the car before I lost it.

I foundt that my parents are just people that happened to raise me. And that I have nothing in common with them except for the home I grew up in and the people I used to know.

I found that I'm turning 20 in less than a month. I'm so fucking excited I cant really explain. But I cant help but compare myself to others who have done amazing things before they turned 20. Mary Shelley wrote Frankenstein. I know its not sensible to compare myself to people like this, but I cant help it.

I found that moving is a pain in the ass. I'm having issues with my old building, and hope to get them resolved soon, apparently they werent aware that I had moved out of that shit hole.

I found that I cant write without reading. Somehow I started putting down books not picking them back up again. But I'm back ( as you can see).

I found that I may not be the writer I thought that I was. Its cocky and scarry to admit that I dont have the great american novel inside me, waiting to burst from my brain. But if its there I hope I find it.

I found that I missed you all. The online community that reads my life. My supporters who never met me. I missed just knowing that I was part of a community of people that may be sitting next to in this cafe in Park Slope, and without knowing me, know me. Because unlike almost all of my other friends, you get to read my like a book. :P