If Love will kill us all
Then I am ready to die.
If the lonely have naught but peace
Then I am ready for conflict.
If committment means the end of freedom
Then I am ready to slave.
If independence makes me strong
Then I am ready to be weak.

So I sit, alive, undisturbed, unshackled, apart.
Why am I doomed to be so lucky?

This is a poem that I started writing about 3 months ago at work in the Multimedia Lab. It hit me out of nowhere, so I simply got up and started writing it out on the dry-erase board. Ryan and I worked on it for over an hour, but there was one line missing that I couldn’t find until today. I guess today is just a literary day. It’s probably the rain.