Your own personal mountain to climb.

It’s ironic how, as we get older, our pains become expressed in lamentations and dirges, our sorrow expressed eloquently and specifically, our rage enacted with swift and flowing verse, and our anger in words brimming with blades.

But our battles are the same; our emotions the same old friends. Their faces lose their innocence and grow lined and weary, but they are the same childhood companions that goaded you from the sidelines.

Sometimes I wish we could actually grow up.

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On an unstimulating level, I would like to apologize for the blogger crew for my unreliable blog lately - I'm not sure what's going on. The link breaks 30% of the time, my profile views is broken, and my rss feed refuses to work. It's a travesty. On an even more unrelated note I consumed at least a hundred dollars worth of alcohol tonight: some fine liquors, an expensive fortified wine, and a $70 bottle of champagne. Nothing I'm writing would hold up in court, sorry.