Dear Reader,

Any road that is short and free of obstacles will take you someplace that you really don't want to be.

This road I'm traveling must lead to someplace great.

I can feel it in the turn of the wheel, the rumble of the engine, the rhythm of the wiperblades.

I know there is something at end of this road, my destination, someone great, someone who will put a smile on my face and lend me a caring ear. Under some chance circumstances we met, but looking back I'm glad we met, without a doubt. You say you appreciate me coming up to see you. Oh I appreciate getting the chance to. I've gone through many days of sorrow and anger, but those days have passed like a storm upon the sea, subsided if only for a short while. Talking to you and being with you brings me happiness that I do believe I have earned. The kind of happiness that melts away your cares and worries like candle wax and you're purely in that moment. Maybe that's saying too much, but I like to believe that this will bring a smile to your face. I have seen sunsets come and sunrises go, but they seem so much sweeter having been in your presence. Part of me says, "Sam, delete this immediately. What are you thinking?", yet I go on. Interesting, eh? I realize that many people will read this and judge me for being so verbose and eloquent, but I really don't care what they think. I write for myself, and they come of their own free will. Let them pick apart my every word and dissect its meaning. The masses scare me not. Be critical of my words, I say, but their opinions will not stop my pen, my mind, or my soul. I write for the person who I know through and through, me. It's sad fact to face, but you can't truly know me. I have thoughts that you can't see or hear. They're inside me, buried deep within the inner workings of my crazed mind. You could spend years and years trying to better your knowledge of me and you would still far short. So cherish those around you while you can. You'll find the seconds taste that much sweeter. I wish I could just pass into legend one day. Kids would gather around campfires while their grandfathers sat on a wooden stump smoking his pipe. "A long, long time ago, a man by the name of Samuel Levi VanGeison lived...." The tale would be so long that it would have to be split into 7 whole nights. A whole life story broken down into seven campfire nights. As I said, I wish. I realize how much power I have. At first glance, you wouldn't think much, but look deeper, my friend, deep into these ocean blue eyes of mine. Being a writer, I could subtly invoke a feeling in you, so right that it scared you. Goosebumps would crawl up and down your arms. I think I'm capable of such a feat. It seems the moon's hours have run their course and my bed is beckoning to me.

Yours truly,
The one, the only,
Samuel Levi VanGeison