I never thought it possible; that I would see you again. Your beautiful black silken hair, your eyes a mahogany brown like the desk I used to write on. You know, the desk where I would write story after story for you in an endless effort to express my love. I'm glad that you've come back to me, to show me that you cared.

Do you remember our little house on the end of the block? Such memories we had there, both for better and for worse, yet nonetheless memories that are engrained in my soul. All the times we hurt each other, all the times we laughed together, all the times we made sweet love, these times live on forever in my mind and are a part of the that house. I sold that house, not because I didn't love you, but because the love I still have for you. The memories in that house gave it a soul, and that soul is tearing my own apart. I could not bear being in that house one more second without you, it felt backwards, wrong.

I know you came to me last night in my dreams. I saw your heavenly face, one even an angel would envy. You looked so calm and serene, and I knew exactly what you meant when I saw your face; I just knew. You love me, you've always loved me. You want me to be happy and not to worry about a house, although we had so many precious memories there, because in the end it was just a house. We were the home inside of that house, and one day our home will be there once again in the world between worlds. Until we meet again my love.

Late at night, as I lie in my bed, my mind drifts to that place between reality and fantasy. Nostalgia is a difficult feeling to express, yet if I were to be able to thrust my feelings upon you, you'd know exactly what kind of warmth and gentle ecstacy I was experiencing. It's funny how thinking back on the past can make your heart melt with joy, and then harden to ice, like petting a puppy to later have it draw blood from biting your hand. Yes, you remember the happy times, but as soon as you do, you realize that they are gone forever, only preserved in your memories that fade with time. Thankfully, there is a way to preserve these precious gifts, a way to etch memories in the fabric of time in the hopes that they will handed down to our posterity; write them down.

Even the people that feel that they "cannot write" should write their memories down, if not for their own sake, than for the sake of their children, and their childrens' children, and so on. Writing is not all about creativity, it can be as simple as writing down what you remember before it gets lost in that fickle thing we call a mind. Everyone that can write, should; even those that can't should dictate their thoughts and memories. Everyone's story is important, and our nostaliga is one of the things that many of us share of different places, times, and people. Write before it's too late; before you must leave, so that the world many know your heart, now and forever.

Wish we could turn back time, to the good old days

When our momma sang us to sleep but now we're stressed out

Wish we could turn back time, to the good old days

When our momma sang us to sleep but now we're stressed out

We used to play pretend, give each other different names

We would build a rocket ship and then we'd fly it far away

Used to dream of outer space but now they're laughing at our face

Saying, "Wake up, you need to make money"

To those non-believers and "anti-dreamers" who tell us to wake up and go "make money", I pity your sad existance.

My friends and I were out late on a Friday night, as most teenagers are. We were having the time of our lives joyriding in my buddy's mom's car. My friend was at the wheel flying down the interstate at breakneck speeds, when out of nowhere, we saw a bright violet suspended light on the shoudler of the freeway, about a mile ahead. All of us were instantly drawn to this mysterious light like fireflies, but my friend was under it's spell completely. The car started to drift ever so slowly off the road onto the shoulder, and the tires began to scream as they passed over the shoulder ridges. All of us in the car panicked as we felt the car carrening off the road ever so noticeably. My friend began picking up speed, faster and faster, until the light grew from a small floating orb to a large circular portal. We tried to bail out, but it was already to late. The car passed right through the portal to the other side, and we were totally unprepared for what we found on the other side. Somehow, someway, we had just traveled into another dimension; a dimension filled with all of our deepest darkest fears.