It’s 5:22 am, cold, damp, and
insomnia is in the air. It’s just insomnia and my thoughts running rampant on
this wild Wednesday. Can you sense the sarcasm? 5 am and I’m writing. You
certainly are a wild one George. I’m writing out of this hidden passion I had
within me all this time, but it just took a moment to realize it. A moment to
understand that without that sense of chaos, lack of responsibility, and arguably
good times that were quite mischievous all had their purpose. Experience. Oh
how ironic the first thought that comes to mind is...
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