Alright, I swore, i’d be off to bed, but to be honest, all I’ve thought about since Saturday is what I need to say. The truth is, when it comes time to reflect, I am often struck silent. Men of few words are the best men. They have the most to say but know to keep their lips closed.

First things first, they say that when you see someone in your dreams, it means they are thinking about you. Someone has been visiting my dreams, and it has been very nice to see them, no matter how much it saddens me to awaken.

It is known that weakness is an unattractive trait. And this blog, for as therapeutic as it is, and as much of a failure as I tend to be referred to as, ought to delineate something beyond my woes, weeping, self-pity, yearning, lust, sadness, and then wrap it up with some exuberant exclamation of the affinity for all things love and poetry. Personally, I enjoy the small anecdotes and theories that I come up with occasionally.

Today’s was yet another failure. And boy, was I sad about this one. I have concluded that I am Michael Jordan. Because he has his quote, “I’ve failed over and over in my life, and that is why I succeeded.” I mean I genuinely have lost count, and someone who loses count of how many times they have failed, might as well be referred to as a loser.

I believe in me. Ain’t nobody seem to want to be there for me. I think about one of my reflections that love is conditional. We’re not going down this road right now, but love is when you care to think about him, or her. My original point was that I believe in me. I know what I need to do. I will be the one writing from here to say I did do it. I did get the job, I did get the car, I did write the book and get published, and I did get the girl. I do believe.

It’s not magic. It’s not belief alone. It is just a faith that here is not the end. I’m a poor test taker. I knew that today, and my last, last, last credential before I am a licensed teacher still hangs over me. Afterhoo, I knew where to go, who to talk to, and what to do so I could sit here, and still believe. The first chapter of Infinite Jest is about a guy who tests poorly so I’m not alone when it comes to a book. And sure, I worked on my hara-kiri letter. And maybe I mention that last anecdote so that you do listen. Because I am sad as a stray cat that sees winter coming. And I can believe all I want alone, but it is people who care, and my hope that they understand.