Waiting for the Balance

But the second week of January may never come.

I had every intention of writing a bit today on the second coming but life likes to happen to you. Perhaps later tonight. Of the many pieces I have written, this one has a way of stirring inside me like the others never did. It's a peculiar feeling but never fails to bring a smirk to my lips.

And i'm absolutely filled to the point of overflowing by this vibration.

I was always a bookworm, still am. I always longed to have an entire room with nothing but floor to ceiling bookshelves along every wall. But I was a bit creepier. I love the feel of a pen or pencil between my fingers. I love flipping through notebooks and seeing all that potential, hearing the rush of the pages. Every stretch of white along those careful little lines makes my hands itch and my mind begin to turn. I have always loved collecting anything that slightly pertained to books, writing, reading, journaling. I have boxes in my attic full of papers waiting to be beconed.

I can hear them calling my name, begging me to give them a story to tell. Until later, loves.

~B.