I've left my poetry behind this past year -- writing and creativity has taken a backseat to real life and I hate it. Instead of inking the pain and unfairness of the world I am suffering through it. I suppose the pain of real life and financial trouble has none of the romanticism that love and heartbreak have. I've been thinking lately though...about how much I crave to be an artist and how if that is my future I truly need to start concentrating on it. After all, I've been telling people for years the fate of the poetic soul -- starving and living in a box. So perhaps I should start to take that to heart. My life will be of pain and despair with those deep strong roots of love that my brandon gives me as the anchor to keep me from leaving this world entirely. I will write again I suppose. Perhaps the Challenge that I've put off ever since I took it, or just real heart-felt poetry. I only hope that I haven't lost my soul of creativity. I only hope that I can nuture it into growth for my future...