Again to the invisible audience

I wrote a lot today. I was momentarily inspired. Part of that inspiration comes from having a new place to write - a blank sheet of paper, essentially. However, one of the main reasons I felt so much like writing was because of an email I received. It was short, but it was something that meant a lot to me. It now sits folded in my back pocket, where it will stay, except when said pocket is in the wash. To know you are loved is sometimes a novel concept. I have taken it for granted for much of my life. I think I am beginning to learn what it really means. I am in fact a flailing idiot when it comes to love. Not always, but a lot of the time. I am greedy about love sometimes - I expect it and I eat it up. I have been an unkind friend in that way to people I love. I'm like a predatory sponge. I soak it up and I don't give it back. I have a record of not appreciating love even when it hits me directly in the head, much like a brick might. I also have a record of thinking there is love when there is mostly possessiveness. I think there may be too many s's in that word, but I'm not spell-checking. And with that... I'm off. I would like to write more, but I really can't. Class is over, time to go home.