A Letter to Myself: Poetry or A Promise?

Dear you,

I have found myself, dear readers, staring intently at my blank word documents hoping for something to be born on the page. I have dedicated countless hours to my random work I wish is poetry, countless hours to improve what I have written in past. Then, then I post it here, for all of you to see, for hopefully anyone out there to see. I write for some sense of therapy, for some sort of solace that maybe my life is not pointless and maybe, just maybe, I won't find myself at the end of a noose. One that i crafted for myself with every sour thought at my expense or hurt that I feel.

Why do I bring this up? Because it has to be. How am I to grow as a writer, as a person, if I can't throw my life on a page for the world to see? To perform and craft the words that are swirling in my mind? I'l fucking try. I will fucking try.

I have made some serious changes in my life over the past couple years. And now I am stuck. I am finding myself stuck back in my head, in my thoughts, lost. My only peace has been in writing these words that you have read. In the words that I am writing now.

Getting to my point of this; I am tired of waiting. I am bursting at the seams with all the stories I wish to tell, to share with you. In the last month I have committed a lot of time to revamping the stories I cherished after I wrote them. In another couple weeks, that will come to a close. In a couple weeks I will start then on what I want to be my breakout. I will sweat, I will cry and I will bleed for this. To take a hold of my dream and mean something to myself.

This project has been on my mind for some time now. Something that I think will be something that anyone could read and find some sort of comfort in. A place to hide for few minutes, a world to cherish for a time, a story to keep you wanting it to grow. It will be broken into two parts (books?) and when it is done, I will put more than anything into getting it out to the world.

I'm excited and nervous. Scared to death, more like. When it leaves my mind, it's no longer mine. It's yours and I only want you to cherish and enjoy what YOU find in it. Whether your an avid book lover, a casual reader, a passerby in a busy bookshop/coffee shop, or a quiet child reading a book in his home, finding the beauty in words.

The most I wish to share about it is probably just the title. So, to end this letter, this promise to myself: Prepare for "Generation: Lost".

-reader, creator, person