I came out here tonight so I could write, so I could write a personal entry about a particular girl and what happened to us last week. I wrote the entry. I kept her little notes and her little story about us framed in history with that earlier posting. Now I sit here for about an hour just thinking what else to write, what else would I need to say. I couldn’t think of anything. Nothing at all.

So I just sat and read earlier entries that I’ve written in the past month to take note of what I’ve written. I’ve written about many things, lots of things, some personal and others that aren’t. I thought I was going to go onto another personal diatribe about what is happening in my life right now. I don’t think I will. I don’t feel compelled to. I’m just going to write.

I sit here on this bridge, not as alone as I would like, typing away under this spotlight. It hurt my eyes, but I don’t care. I’m writing. I’m putting words down on the page, adding another entry, just writing to keep my brain working. Just writing.

I guess because it is fast approaching summer so early in the spring that more and more people are coming out to my little secret writing space to do their little work. Read, write, do homework, watching the traffic that float by like I’ve always loved to do. I’m just sitting here typing away, doing my best to ignore these people, but at times, I don’t think I can. They are invading my space. They are taking over my beloved quiet work area. I can’t have this anymore. It’s just too much but I can’t do anything about it.

So I just hunker down and write and write and write. I type words that string together and I read what I just wrote to know what it is that I’m thinking.

I don’t know what I’m thinking. Is it that single mother that I’m so obsessed with? Is it about the dinner I had on Friday night with a group of friends of mine, or is it about the poker night I had over the weekend. I lost a dollar by the way.

Gosh, it is only 8:38. I can’t believe it is so early. It felt like I’ve been here for a while now, and I have. I got here early tonight. Really early. So I sit here just typing away in my usual stream of consciousness, just typing away.

I think about all of the things that happened to me in the past couple of weeks. My bouts of socialness, my long talks with that friend of a friend. I’m just thinking and replaying things in my head.

I’ve been told something I’ve been told many times today by that single mother. I have nothing to be angry about. That is true. I really have nothing to be angry about. Nothing at all. I guess my sudden mood swings comes from my bouts of fatigue and lack of rest, even though I rest a lot. I find myself weird and strange, not able to control my feelings and emotions. But this past week and starting today has been a good time. Been happy and playful. It is always a good thing when I’m happy and playful.

I should just let things be. I should just let things go and let whatever happens happen. I shouldn’t care so much about these petty little issues in my life, my lack of experience, my singleness. I should care less. Let things happen when they happen. Just let things happen.

I’ll go on letting things happen as I am so use to letting things happen. I find myself enjoying being alone. I don’t feel inadequate that I’m not with someone. I actually enjoy being on my own, doing my own thing. I could do whatever I want, see whoever I want, go out with whoever I want, stay out as late as I want and I don’t have to compromise with anyone about these issues. I just do.

I’ve been writing seriously lately. Very serious. I just finished a new short script the other day. It is a 2nd draft of something that I wrote last August. I’ve changed many things, many things. Originally, I wrote the script Hermit Love as my first short that I will shoot, but then the reviews came in and the general consensus is that it sucks. So I rewrote it. It is drastically different. The only thing that stayed from the first draft is the characters’ names, the opening scene, and the story idea or theme.

Well, theme, story idea, I