Dear reader, I must confess

Today was a day with some frustration, an odd uncomfortable feeling that messes with your equilibrium. Leaving my words behind on a desk is akin to telling some young children, "Mami's gonna get on this bus, but it's very crowded  - no room for y'all, so take the next one. We'll meet up eventually." 

I worried for my small and long sentences with simple and complex words and spanishized syntax and standardized syntax and the rambling and the sparks of wisdom and promise. I didn't want to leave them for too long. 

Today was a day that tested this patience of a saint that I have most of the time. I am patient despite my sometimes unwelcoming face. My subway face that tells the world I got better things to do then to be bogged down with unnecessary dialogue, which I am unable to edit.

No, don't think those things don't.

I'll think them for you. 

Dear reader, I must confess that despite my frustrations, the universe shows signs of rooting for me at every turn. The right mood, lighting, people and I guess, eventually, love will come along to soothe this savage's beat.