I went to sleep a poet and i woke up a fraud

My sonnet is dreadful. Mrs. Lowe will like it. What good is that though?

I can't write! Gah.

I think that I can't not think. Yeah, it's a curse of being a girl. So that just means I have to deal with it, I guess. Remember rainbows? I totally just made the connection in my brain. It's that I don't have anybody to paint rainbows like I did in that poem. I mean, yeah, I have people, but i haven't had people. That was the problem. I didn't have someone to paint tragedy in the colors of the rainbow. And I've given up trying to salvage any bit of the old rainbows. I can't take it anymore. But I don't know. It's kind of a crazy coincidence, don't you think? Isn't it a little too crazy that i wrote about my hero of last year, and i wrote about the rainbows and the tragedy. and the painting. And now, I lost my hero. ...sort of. They just aren't my hero anymore. but someone is. Someone's got to be. And this time it's different because they know.

I can't get over it. It's just the strangest thing.( =] ) You have a rainbow machine? that's a heck of a lot more effective than paint. That may just be my opinion. But this time my hero is better. This time my hero has the Big Guy behind him. That helps a lot.


If you read this, you probably read my other blog. I have changed the name several times. Dance Through Sunday. Happy End. Pass the Horizon. I can't choose. i think I may just revert back to the original. Regardless, if you are confused as to this rainbow business, here's a hint:

if you are standing twenty seven days from today and turn all the way around, you'll see it.

And we'll see it. We'll see it, we'll see it.

--Scottie: when i turn jet black, you show off your light. i live to let you shine.