You took the wheel and you steered us into my bed. Soon we woke and I walked you home… and it was pretty clear that it was hardly love.

Once upon a time…

You know, once upon a time, inspiration came easily. Sure, the stories weren’t always so interesting, but adventures happened, love was professed, and stories were told. Sometimes I wish I had been more willing to share what was happening, when it was happening. I still have a million moments that were never shared, lost somewhere between a whisper, a blurry memory, and the inspiration for my page of stories. The truth is, life lately couldn’t even hold a candle to the past–of almost love-affairs, whiskey kisses, and all night adventures.

“The signal is subtle
We pass just close enough to touch
No questions, no answers
We know by now to say enough”

I never told the story of how I chose the title for this blog, and I probably never will. After all, that girl is lost to me almost as much as the love struck girl I once was. Once upon a time, though, I was told that it was almost like I was two different people. He’ll never know how close to the truth he really was, or the secrets that I kept; nights he wasn’t there, looks he missed. Sometimes I wish I could go back there. Life has hit a stand still, and I miss the adventure, the way my pulse would race from a mere “what if”. The stories I could have have told.

A writer is nothing without her inspiration, and even as summer inches closer, I have nothing. It’s strange, but what I wouldn’t give to be twenty-one and feel invincible.

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