The need to write.

It's September. It's a new month. It's a new season, new surroundings, new experiences, new atmosphere, new attire.
Today, on September 6th, it's a chilly morning. Fall, it's close and there is no strong enough power to stop it. Seasons must come, as the next second hand tick will tock. At first, Fall is always nostalgic and sweet to me, but as the colder weather hits without reservation right behind the comfortable atmosphere of Autumn...I am not as content.

I started school about a week ago. I feel a combination of anticipation, worry, excitement and denial of it having approached so quickly. This Summer has been fantastic by anyone's standards so the simple fact of it passing remarkably fast was quite expected.

My bike has become my transportation to work on the weekends to both save money and get some exercise that involves me being outside rather than my kitchen.

I've read some articles discussing writers' need to write in equivalence to sustenance; it's something that comforted me rather than shocked me. That overwhelming feeling of deprivation, of how that moment when the words are thought of in the most perfect of ways and how the thoughts themselves are so clear and paramount that no other thought can POSSIBLE trump its worth and state of existence, right? But of course, as the day I am respectively experiencing wears on, the thoughts diminishes and nothing is left but a vague, apparently unimportant thought that seems silly to begin with...but that's the thing, it IS important, PAST the threshold of important, it's dire and sadly enough, it has passed without any way to remember it in its original shimmer.
Unfortunately, nothing can arouse similar feelings as the ones that saturated the previous ones.