I used to have secrets. And I used to be honest with myself. I still am, but not out loud. It it real? I still am, but not paper. Am I honest? I’m constantly rocking in the sea of my mind, back and forth and back and forth, waiting to understand the tides I cannot express. The internet, this web that reaches to the vast ends of space whom I still don’t understand, does not provide me safety in numbers. It’s funny. I’m alone among millions too scared to spill my guts. Because guts are not a pretty sight, and those who are ignorant can, at times, be easily offended by messes. I am alone in a sea of messes, and now that I finally am I can express this.. this.. This empty what I wish was a spoken word poem. My community college English class would grade this paper a D+ for grammar and punctuation, but emotion has no rules. I’m angry and in love with this moment in my life, and I have forgotten to express myself, because in a world of order anything less than a C does not make sense. Anything less than on track is unintelligible. Bullshit. People have been living and in love for thousands of years, without proper grammar or punctuation or rules or etiquette. It’s a shame I feel my Porter provided me the liquid courage to let my mind out. i don’t let it out often anymore because I have become afraid of what people think. It’s not a focused mind, it is rampant. I am learning it is a different mind, just like yours is a different mind. And I’m learning not to be angry with it. I am learning I am a unique mind, and I am learning. Fuck your rules.