When I think back to the poems I wrote as a teenager, they were full of indecisiveness, they had a direction but not an end result, they proclaimed an idea without fully understanding the meaning behind the direction. I thought I'd write for the sake of writing, words spewed out like vomit sprayed into an unfamiliar toilet, easily flushed away in order to avoid embarrassment. yet I was glad to be nauseous, glad to at least have an idea that could be cultivated and refined, glad to think and matter and be. Finally I had found a way to escape my insecurities, placing my identity into the pitch black ink of a semi-permanent ideology. Words can live as long as we can read, lets hope we can read forever.