let's try not to make this terrible

this is called: font. maybe i am and maybe i'm not. what difference does it really make, in the end?

let's try.

so i've been away. try to forgive me. i know it might take some time, some effort on both our parts, perhaps a circle of feelings. but look at it this way: in the meantime, i became an arbitrator, a used-car saleswoman, a bargain-dealer, a racist and a thief. but that was before i passed the bar exam. now, i am just looking for something i've misplaced.

maybe i'm starting this writing back up because when i get home it takes me over six hours to relax enough to even lie down in my bed without getting up after ten minutes, or because i sometimes question this: how did my world get this small this many times during the day, day to day, week to week, month to month? i was bigger than this, could think and walk and talk bigger much bigger than this at one time and without any prompting, so let's see it again, loya the destroya (or so they call me at workity work work work), do it for us all one more time.

alright.

back again.