I can’t experience life. My grandma passed away

a year ago and although I cried, in the back of my

head I couldn’t stop thinking about how these

emotions I was experiencing would make a good

poem one day. My boyfriend was having a very

serious conversation and I wasn’t paying attention

because I liked him, but rather because I wanted

to remember as much as possible for later when

I put it down on paper. My mom yelled at me for

not doing what she never told me she wanted me

to do and I tracked her phrasing for a mini essay.

It was raining one day so I went outside and stood

under the clouds. I love the rain and I smiled but

all I was thinking was about how beautiful my

feelings would be in a well thought out verse.

I don’t know why I do this. I can’t stop it. I always

find myself looking for the stories so much in my

life that I can hardly experience it myself.