Sand and Ice.

Words today weren't coming very easily. My concentration was tainted. I couldn't think properly. I couldn't work. But now I think it's okay. My words are simple now, and it's become more of a calculated process instead of sometihng natural, but that's fine because I have to pretend I'm clever and that I know what I'm talking about. I have to reference everything. APA referencing. I've found a corner in this room, and it's just me, and things seem comfortable.

I think maybe I'm phasing in and out of optimism, but it's nice, and I like it. I'm going to find my niche one day. And I'm going to find you. And I'm going to read all the books I want to read. And I'm going to do something amazing. And you're still going to make me smile. And I'm still going to have regrets. And I'm still going to like walking and listening to my music really loudly. And I'm still going to know the alphabet. And I'm still going to find things that captivate me. And I'm still going to smile when you play music. And I'm still going to prefer trousers to skirts. And I'm still going to worry about things I shouldn't. And I'm still going to get excited about snow. And I'm still going to cry about things. And I'm still going to like water. And I'm still going to age. And I'm still going to be nostalgic. And I'm still going to have blue eyes. Things are more stable than you realise and maybe having a little faith in something isn't so bad afterall.