Johnathan Croom · Life—only real when shared.

Good Writing

I think about writing quite a lot. I enjoy writing. I enjoy talking a whole lot more, though. I would like to bend my words into some sort of one-sided conversation. That sounds confusing. What I’m trying to say is this: I want my writing to, somehow, seem like a conversation between us. I want you to ask questions in your head, and then I immediately answer them.

There’s this intrapersonal conversation I often have. It’s extremely thought-filled and has so much meaning to me. It is not something that I can translate into an interpersonal conversation. Conversations with people are always lacking in some way, maybe because of their disinterest in what I have to say, maybe something else. What I hope to do here, and everywhere that I write, is to have an intrapersonal conversation on paper, that you can read and that you can understand.

This very blog post is an intrapersonal conversation. I was just sitting here reading and I decided to record some thoughts as they happened.

Until next time, friend.

Infinite, Day One

Today has been fantastic. In Wallflower terms, today I feel infinite. I truly do. Regardless of the current situation or what I have to do, I feel great. Right now, it doesn’t matter how good or bad things are, I just feel great.

Why? Figuring why I feel like this today is key to replicating it. I think that it’s partly because I’ve been able to really please everyone today. Everything I’ve done has ended up successfully and people have been happy because of my actions. That makes me extremely happy.

So what did I do today? Well, I took my buddies to lunch, looked at fancy cars, and did some shopping. Seriously, that’s all. I’ve been happy through all of it, though.

It feels weird posting something so happy, because every time I write, I seem to be distraught in some way. I guess, normally, I write when I see no other thing to do, but today I wanted to write to remind myself that days are, and will be, good.


It’s weird, what we remember. Looking back at my previous blog posts, I remember specific things that happened that day, regardless of what I wrote. It’s nice. It makes me want to write more, so that someday and I can look back and remember at least some of the time I had.

I feel like the very words I record on this blog have a lot of meaning. Maybe not a lot of meaning to you, or a lot of meaning to me, but a lot of meaning to future me. I hope that someday in the distant future I will struggle with something that I wrote about, or that there’s a moment that I just need to know who I am, and I can look back, and see, exactly where I’ve been, what I’ve done, and where I’ve wanted to go.

I feel that my writing isn’t purposeful or of any use, but looking back at it this morning, it made me remember things I would have otherwise forgotten, and I love that.

(I just looked back at the last two paragraphs and noticed they contradict greatly. Oh well. It flowed out naturally.)

I sincerely hope to write more, not just for my sake, but for your sake as well. If you’re taking the time to read these stupid ramblings, it’s likely you care at least somewhat about me. If you do in fact care, I want you to know that I care about you too, and that I write this in hopes that you can see me, who I truly am, and get an insight into me, the deeper, more thoughtful me.

That comes to the main point: I believe there’s something inside of me that’s valuable to you in some way. It’s my hope to, somehow, transfer that thing to you, whatever it may be. That, my friend, is my only motivator.

Moving Out

I just realized how depressing my last post was, so I figured I would attempt to write something a little more cheerful, in this case, about moving out.

I moved out of my parent’s house two weeks ago. Simple as that. Just up and left for the first time ever. I just got back from a shower, which succeeded a 5am run, and now I am listening to the morning sounds, breathing the beautiful Arizona air, and staring silently as the firey lights of my candles illuminate the room.

Sounds pretty great doesn’t it? I cook my own meals, pay my own bills, and worry about literally nothing. There has not been a single downfall. I absolutely love it.

Surely living on my own has improved life itself, but has it made an impact on me deeply, enough to destroy that inner sadness and anger? No. For that, I will continue to seek a solution.

All is good, and I hope the same to you.

Johnathan Croom · Life—only real when shared.