Years ago, I wrote a short story for the sole purpose of making a "trailer" out of it. Truth be told, I had the idea of the trailer first, but for one reason or another couldn't bring myself to produce the trailer without having a backstory. So I wrote. I drafted quite a few things, which is not my forte. When I write, I tend to go all or nothing, so it's frustrating to feel like I have to make a draft to have a great final product. Nonetheless, I reached to every area of my life I possibly could, to help me create this thing I was beyond excited about. The idea originally came from a song I HATED the first time I listened to it. That song ended up being the forefront outlet, as well as a song that ended up in the video I created. Funny how things work out. In the process of trying to formulate this story, however, I hit a road block, as lots of writers do. I found myself laying on the back of my car, staring at the stars, listening to a song from the same EP the previous song mentioned was also on. I got lost in the sky listening to that song, and that was the night I wrote the first few paragraphs of this short story. Before today, I hadn't listened to that song since that time in my life. I knew it would be most beneficial in the same situation, so I watched some of the VMAs, then wandered outside to listen to a song I had once listened to like I hear myself breathe. The silence in these moments often turns into the most thought - provoking vice. There is noise, but it all drowns itself out. The crickets chirping blends in with the breeze when it blows through and calm when it leaves. For a second, it feels like time hasn't changed. I'm looking to the star filled sky for answers, as if it has any to readily provide, and I'm imagining. Finding hope listening with different ears. Looking with different eyes. Thinking with different sense. I'm not sure what I'm searching for this time, unless it's just hope, promise, or something to believe in on it's own. Years ago, I listened with different intent. I heard dialogue. I heard stories. I heard imagination in the sound of two other voices, and it seemed okay, even if the inflection was not. So I continue to sit in the simplicity, and I listen, and I hope the wind brings change, or promise, or anything to make all of this in my hands worthwhile. And I imagine that promise looks like a sincere smile, or eyes full of truth, or a brain full of ideas to bring peace. But all I do is imagine, and hope it's enough, even if for just a second. After all, every move made starts from one mental vision, just imagined. I'm left feeling empty, for whatever reason. I'm not sure I had anything to create from in the beginning, but it feels far less plausible now. I've got nothing to take from, and nothing to give, except some recycled words. So I write what I know. The stars, the sky, the pavement still a little warm from the day, the breeze blowing, but only every so often. I write with no end purpose aside from making sense of whatever is happening in my brain. And I still have yet to do that. I can't complain, because I've grown to appreciate the power of my imagination. Don't get me wrong, it can and does keep me up at night, it wakes me up in the middle of a dead sleep, keeps me distracted during traffic, and allows me to create seemingly unimaginable things. I can appreciate it for what it is, what it isn't, and what it may never turn into. I was thinking earlier about having always had a big imagination, but in the time I needed it the most, it was neglected. However, as I said before, I've grown to appreciate it. So even having my ideas tweaked and changed and stolen when they weren't being ignored, over looked, or neglected, as a high schooler, as an adult, I understand the power I have with it. It would be a shame to throw it away. Here is where I put out into the universe that I hope to find more with my imagination. Think less of the bad and more of the good. Build worlds instead of destroy them. Move forward with it instead of being set back. Most of all, I hope to continue to cherish this imagination for as long as I possibly can. God knows that's the only thing getting me through all of this.