It's not a bad day today, the sun is out and the river is rising topped with white bubbly foam. I'm sitting on stone sitting in sunlight trying to think of an intimate truth to tell. Intimate in a different sence, like trying to describe how the touch of ink feels to paper as I write. It feels good to pretend to be an intelectual, except on those days when you feel you have nothing to say. Time goes slower on those days, you see everyone around you, and you wish you could be like them, but you're not. You're not so special, you don't believe in things, and if you do, you can't quite figure out what that thing is. What are you working towards? What is this goal you are trying so hard yet so little to accomplish? You want to be respected, looked up to, but you don't even know where to begin. That's what I want. I want to be a writer. I have my heros, but I feel underqualified. I'm just me. I am. I can't even find that something that makes me great. People look at me and they see me, but it's wrong, they don't see who I should be, or more correctly who I want to be. Free writing, is that what this is? Am I even thinking before I write, or am I just blindly following the lines on this paper? I hear what people say about me, but then again maybe I don't. Do I become what they think of me, or do I make myself or is it I just AM? I don't know how these things work, and maybe they shouldn't be thought about at all. Above all I just want to understand, and write it all down so that you can understand too. So that I can be that person you look back on and think good things about later on in life. I don't want to be a mistake.