I really should go ahead with it. I always get nervous or scared or just plain old chicken and I never bother submitting anything. I see Deadlines pass me by all the time and I do nothing about it. But, then I think about essays and assignments and all these other things that need to be done. Maybe the first weekend after the 22nd of April, I'll sit down and finally do the last edit and submit it. Somewhere, anywhere. Blah. The thing is... the first story I wrote happened to be about Omar. A fictional five year old kid and he stole my heart. I feel so silly. I can't let him go. And maybe the story is cliched. Who knows. Cherry Blossoms are here, friends. Dandelions will soon be opening their sunshiney hearts. But today, I want to go search for purple. Those amethyst-ey flowers that seem to spring out of the grass or from behind crooked, old trees at random moments in random places. They always seem to have a ray of sunshine fall right on them. I love them. They remind me of happiness. From where I'm sitting right now, I can look out the window and see the branches of trees beckoning to me. They're my old friends. And their hugs feel good. I miss my grandma's cheek. I haven't seen her for so long. And our phone conversations are too short because there is the hint of sad emotion hidden in our 'salaams' and 'i love you's. Being unable to co-ordinate schedules is the most un-awesomest thing. Alas, darlings, this is the end of this. Beige walls and computer screens. I cannot keep my trees waiting any longer. | 
