I just finished a journal and decided to put some of the raw poetry/prose up here because I haven't been doing much else lately. It's so interesting to go through the ups and downs of your life from the past year and a half; most notably falling in and out of love. I'd never been in love before and the emotion consumed my writing. But the poetry, the prose that I wrote while in love seems so juvenile, so blinded, so naieve in retrospect. Now that we've severed our romantic ties, instead of seeming cute, the writing only seems almost shamefully cliche.

It's hard to make something once so private now public, though I know it was never intended to stay in my brain--I never would have written it down if I didn't want someone to read it. And with that in mind, I urge the reading of my most recent poetry with the knowledge that the writer recognizes it's potential, however self-indulgent and "cutsie" it may be.