Thoughts...

I really don't want to grow up. 

I tell everyone if I could have been in 8th grade forever I would have. 

Tonight I was reading through some Shel Silverstein poems. I've been having trouble getting to sleep and thought it might help. My dad would read these to me and my brother before we went to bed. 

I thought this one best fit how I feel...

Forgotten Language

Once I spoke the language of the flowers,

Once I understood each word the caterpillar said,

Once I smiled in secret at the gossip of the starlings,

And shared a conversation with the housefly in my bed.

Once I heard and answered all the questions of the crickets,

And joined the crying of each falling dying flake of snow,

Once I spoke the language of the flowers...

How did it go?

How did it go?

Shel Silverstein

I love Shel.