At the time I was in a major major bout of depression and rather dissalusioned (sp?) at the time with humanity in general. My writing though comes from the general feel of my surroundings. I find that if I am in cirtian places I write a cirtian way if that makes sense. What was wierd about this is when I wrote the thing I had an assignment due *the next day* for the English class (Junior year of HS) I mentioned earlier. I had spent about four hours staring at my computer TRYING to come up with something and I just could NOT get my brain in gear. I turned on a new age cd to try and kick things into motion and started to Free write *just write stuff at random* on some notebook paper. Next thing I know, three more hours go by and I have several scribbled pages stacked on my desk. What you read is pretty much what I wrote, save for spelling corrections and such. I was happy that I had SOMETHING to turn in but I remembered that it had to be typed and reading my scribbling at 3 am is rather much a chore. I typed it out and then the guy makes me READ it in front of the class. He sent me to the counselors office afterward...