Alone again

'We're swimming around,
It's all I do when I'm with you.'

-loch

Had my cake, now

I gave you everything. Was it not enough?
This balcony is my only constant. One day you'll be sad you let me go.
-loch

Young and beautiful

I am honestly happy.
-loch

Young blood

I'm perpetually getting myself into pickles.

-loch

I'm waking up

I think I found what I need right now. If you believe in prayers then pray for me, if not then send me good vibes, it's whatever. Wrote a poem last night, I'll post it soon.

-loch

Line of the century

Found a new writing spot on campus.


-loch

in my bones

Sometimes I wonder if this is what I'm supposed to be doing. I've never learned a thing in a journalism class but I'm fine at the paper. Class is never what made me a talented writer. I wonder if I'd be better off just stopping everything and finally writing. I know this sounds cliche but this isn't helping me, it's a detriment to my writing projects. I'm spending little to no time on them due to other obligations, but isn't my writing the reason I came to school in the first place? Maybe not everyone's meant for this. Maybe I could live without a degree. It's a strange thing to feel that your life is being dictated by a desire to meet other's expectations. Maybe everyone feels like this. Maybe this is just showing me who I really am and what I'm built for. I think at this point I'm keeping up this facade of being a student to keep this life, this lifestyle, to keep other people happy. I don't think I'm happy, and I'm certainly not flourishing here. I didn't come to college to take high school-esque classes on Shakespeare's word choice.

I feel like I'm waking up from a dream.
-Loch

Daylight could be so violent

I wrote a short story. I think the next two weeks will be crucial.

Love,
Loch

I wanted you to know

The wait
Chest rising and falling
Your hair strewn out under a half-on hat,
Beard ruffled.
Me propped up on you,
Parks and Rec shining light off my MacBook,
Bouncing off your back,
Smoke wafting from incense
Filling the air next to Amy Poehler's voice.
In the morning we wake up, I make you pancakes,
Help you find your watch,
But for now you sleep
And I spend my time with Amy,
Leaning on you cradled,
Chest rising and falling.




That poem and that picture are mine. On another note, I feel alive.
-loch

smoking weed under star projectors

"The philosophers have only interpreted the world, in various ways; 

the point, however, is to change it."

Like Drake, I think I like who I'm becoming.

Much love,

Loch.