I wonder what kind of life I have when I find myself abusing the term "life keeps getting in the way."

This thought presently - and quite spontaneously - occurred to me shortly after writing a message to what almost feels like an old friend judging by the time I've spent away.

I can remember back around two years ago when things were so much simpler, before I really began to grow up. (oh man, I think this is starting to transform into a coming of age story.) One of my biggest regrets so far is how much I've been neglecting my writing - my creative impulses. Two years ago I was writing chapters by the mother-load on weekends and even found time to work on them during the week. Hallelujah!

But, unfortunately, if experience teaches us anything it's that good things aren't meant to last. A tournament is being thrown this years - a writing tournament - by someone I've known since pretty much near the beginning. I wanted to join this years sequel to a Winner is You (which I came in second by the way, just behind Angel Lucifel, a talented writer in her own right) However, now this is the tragic part. . . time wouldn't allow it. I think I'd have to file this under the heading "life is full of little disappointments."

Now, for a round about to get back to the whole growing up thing.

Back then I had free time to do whatever I wanted. Most of it was spent goofing off with friends or writing whatever happened to pop into my head. However, steadily I noticed my time slowly beginning to wither away, and my carefree life started to become smothered beneath the colossal responsibilities of approaching adult-hood. Funny, It's almost like going through puberty again - but for your mind rather than your body.

In a year I'll be going away to college, then to whatever career I have in store for myself.

It's weird, I spent most of my childhood wishing I was older, but not I spend my time wishing I hadn't wasted so much time wishing for something I didn't make come any faster.

Whoa, I've rambling all over the place here. Back to writing.

Yes, Life is getting in the way of something I love doing. School, my job, the community hours I need to graduate, piano lessons, not to mention the fact that I'll be entering into what I hope to be a promising relationship - it all sucks time from me. Kinda makes me think of a writhing pile of leeches with rows of serrated teeth, all biting an gnawing, all trying to feed off me. If you think about it, we never get much time to do anything. Around 100 years - even less for most. There's never enough time. A billion years from now (and yes, I know it's hard to except but the universe will still function after we're all dead) it won't matter what we've done, what we accomplished, the people we've immortalized will eventually fade away like they never existed. Even this journal entry - my one few stamps on a stream of information - will be gone.

Therefore I think we should spend what little time we have being happy. I mean, come on, Life is awesome! Even the crummy parts. Even the saddest, most pathetic person on the planet should be happy. We're all alive people!

Anyway, right, writing, I keep straying away from that subject . . . I don't even know how I'm gonna end this . . . I think I'll just keep on going until I run out of steam.

I miss writing stories. I miss the thrill of seeing your ideas come to life on a page - to take something from your head and make it real. I remember what I was like to finish my first long story. It was great.

Oh well, I guess when you start becoming a man, you have to put away the things you did when you were a boy. It's all priorities now.

Ah, I think I've rambled on long enough (Roughly translated, It means I just ran out of things to say)

So, that puts an end to my second journal entry.

Take it easy.

Alius.

P.S. Excuse any mistakes I've made in the text.I keep telling myself I should read over my work, but I know I wont. I think it's just something you say.

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