To Follow A Heart...To Find A Hand

My life--is bound in pages and paragraphs. I take time out of each day to write down everything about my life. Feelings, questions, emotions, events, people, places, times, etc...and I just have to wonder..what's it all for? Who am I writing this for? Who is my audience? What is my significance here on this Earth? I mean, is there meaning to anything we do? We do not know. And I have to challenge myself each day to find another thing about me that makes me special--that gives me purpose. It's strange the things we think about when alone and surrounded by the sounds of guitar strings and piano keys. My entire life up to this point has been filled with almost constant pain, yet it has also been flooded with so much happiness. I have the most amazing friends I could ask for. The ones that matter anyway. My family...though dysfunctional...is still my family. Certainly I don't like my mother. And I don't appreciate her enough. And by the time I do it will probably be too late. And I've come to terms with that. My father...I love him dearly. He's a very smart man. He's kind of a revolutionary. He's the only person I know that truely gets it. Gets me. Understands every thought going through my head, and what I mean when I say certain things. It takes some special people in your life to truely understand you.