I write at least part of a poem every single day, and it’s made me feel as though I have regained a significant part of my soul. I see the world differently when I’m actively writing poetry; my brain feels more alive.

My poems are like a diary of my brain—they reflect whatever I’ve been thinking about that day. Lately I’ve been thinking about the Beat Generation and about Patti Smith; my recent poems are about Laura Palmer’s secret diary and drug addicts wandering through old New York City and people who have passed through my life.

I don’t know how I went so long without writing poetry, but I have new hope for the future. I feel like a writer again, and it’s one of the best feelings in the multiverse.

Summer is close; I can feel the heat on my skin when my gym class goes outside to play football on the Astroturf. For once in my life, I feel kind of sad about school ending, but I also look forward to summer, to making it matter for once. I’m hoping to take a trip to San Diego with one of my best friends over the break. I cannot take another three consecutive months of New York.

But all is well. In fact, everything is really good. I feel weird saying that for some reason, but it is the truth. ♦