From a Young Age

It’s been a while. I don’t know why I haven’t written anything lately. Well–I do know why. I guess I don’t know why I allowed myself to not write. I usually don’t let anything get in the way of writing.
I haven’t only neglected my writing though. I haven’t taken any pictures lately either. The same roll of film from over a month ago is still in my dad’s camera. Now that it’s nice out again, I’ll make more of a point of bringing it to the internship. Tribeca’s a beautiful place. It deserves to be photographed.

I’m going to try to write a story…in one sentence. A happy one. I’ve been boring and depressing lately. It’s time to switch things up. Don’t think it’s easy, that this is just a cop out. It’s not. If I learned anything about writing (and most things, now that I think about it) in college, it’s that the less you have to work with, the harder it is to do successfully.

 

From a Young Age

It took years to accomplish, and during those back-breaking years, he didn’t know–sometimes forgot–why he started in the first place; he didn’t know why he worked from sun up to sun down, but once he was done, once he was finished, he knew right then and there–as he looked on from the kitchen window at the sun hanging by a thread in the sky–that it was all worth it, that even though it’s not as beautiful as he expected, it will exceed his expectations and everyone else’s to the point where it will inspire them to leave behind something just as significant–maybe more–for their¬†someone special.

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