First entry on one of my old diaries.

So, I feel fine, I feel full. 

My head is full of ideas, 

and my hand cannot wait to write them down. 

I feel complete. My head is a brainstorming, 

my heart is the same but wiser. 

I can smell the paper sheets, and the ink. 

I can hear the scratching of my pen. 

I can see my hand already dreading the over-use.

But its ok, because in the end, its going to be awesome.