I wrote a poem about six years ago

(wow, its odd to think in that sort of increment of tiem, that is a thrid of my life ago, it make sme realize how young i am for that to seem long.)

It wasnt a particularly good poem. By my current standards most of my writing from that time is not good at all.

but nonetheless i found this poemt he other day, or rather i found it in my head, not phsyically

(it is filed away with so much of my work in green and red binders scatter about my room)

I found the meaning of it, the feeling. the point of it, the big picture, the theme, the motif if you will was this: yes i made a mistake, i did something wrong, but it was my mistake and there is some merit in that, some merit in teh fact that is was mine, my decision entirely independent of everyone else

and i didnt regret it

since then, it has become my philosophy, without my even notcing it

(because somehow regret has found its way out of my vocabulary and i find some merit somehting good to everything in my life weather it was stupid to do or be involved in. because it is pointless to regret, and even more so I have no reason because they have made me who i am)

its my favorite poem ever, It was based on a tiem i was suspened from school for writing on the bathroom walls at school.

now instead my mistakes that i do not regret are in an entirely different area . . . . its amazing what 6 years can do.