Lost Inspiration

The moment I see words written, I yearn for the touch of a pen, the feel of a keyboard. The longing I yield is so strong, that I cannot take a breath for fear I shall scream. I legit feel this always. I legit think this way most times I look upon the written form of our worlds.

But alas, I have lost my way in the words that sway. I've drowned my dreams with a bottle it seems, but not entirely true. They hold steady, they hold fast upon my reality. My dream of someone out there apperciating my works other than family.

The one who inspired me randomly, the one who gave me the best ideas and thoughts of twists and turns - of which are always the best kinds. The randoms, the lost lingerings of a mind mental enough to comprehend my craziness. Oh yes, he was my true heart of the words. My stepfather was powerful in dropping bombs of plot twists.

All I had to do was explain to him what was going on, or where I was stuck, or what I thought should happen next and he would spring into action with his own reality. His own realm of perspectives I could never touch upon. The bridge of Tarabitha afterall...

He, who gave me such inspiration, has long since past any usefulness outwardlly. Unfortunately, he who shall be honored time and time again, has passed on from thsi realm into a world yet unexplored. Into the realm of the after. The one place I dread of going...

My Garebear, oh how I miss thee. How I want to see your grumpy expressions and hear your jovial expressions. "He can go fuck up a stump." was my personal favorite.

Rest in Grumpiness with my pap'pa. RIG!!!

My inspiration has disappeared with the last breath I watched.