I've not written in a long time.
I'm sitting in a room surrounded by people who don't care about what goes on around them.
I sit among them wondering what the Hell I'm even writing about.
Nonsense, nonsensical words that mean nothing but the life that I give them.
What
          do
               they
                       all
                           mean?
You write almost everyday.
I know because you tell me.
You sit in rooms surrounded by people who have such deep, longing, arduous passion for what goes on around them.
You stand among them.
Stand because you greatly outshine them all.
Play, play, playing notes that breathe to life when you tell them to.
You learned to control them.
You
       give
               them
                         meaning.
                                           Like
                                    you
                    ­          do
                      me.