There are billions of words- yet there is only one correct word.

Whether in the fields of Oklahoma,
or in the deserts of Saudi Arabia,
writers know that one right thing to say.

Happy, elated, joyous, cheerful, blissful.

They all mean the same thing, but connotatively,
are worlds apart.

I was happy for his success.
I was elated over my success.
I was joyous at the party.
I was cheerful during the Christmas season.
I was feeling blissful during the wedding ceremony.

Without conscious word choice, the world would a very sad and monotonously gray place indeed-
rather than a beautiful spectrum of color.

From a distance you are beautiful
close proximity highlights your supposed refinement
then you open your mouth...

A whirlwind of immaturity and thoughtlessness
barrages me.

Why don't you have friends?
Well talking a million miles out of your *** doesn't help.

I'm exhausted by the end- worn out- done.

You close your mouth and I forget,
I'm ****** in like a male fly to a shiny-female light.
Only your words are a much more effective fly zapper than electric lamps
and I’ll soon learn.

It's that time of the summer
when in increments,
slowly,
ever so slowly,
friends depart.

I'm growing up,
but I yearn for a time when I didn’t want to sleep in,
for a time when decisions were out of my hand.

Everything is different
we have licenses
we have jobs
we have new friends
we have lost old ones
we go to see colleges.

No one is staying here.

We are all leaving one after another;
I just wish it were on my terms.

Don’t quit a book until you’ve read the first 50 pages

Because she is not a ****…
Rather an opportunist

And she is not easy…
Rather extremely open

And lastly, she is not a *****…
Rather a budding entrepreneur

Life is about perspective.
Reserve judgment until the end of the book
Because page 51 just might change your life.