stream of conciousness

i know i need to start writing every day. im kicking myself in the ass because i know what ive been working on for so long isn't going to get published. i need to learn how to write all over again. i need to know how you accomplish something. i feel like all i have wanted for so long is just to get published anywhere. i wouldn't care if it ended up shredded for bedding at the bottom of someone's hamster cage. i want it so bad. i think you were right when you said id cry if i got rejected. im preparing myself, i already know.
at home, i have potato soup cooking in my crock pot my grandparents gave me but i have never really used. i learned last night i love cooking and listening to music. somehow this makes me want to write. it could become part of my process: i cook and then i write. it takes my mind off things i need to do, things i wish i hadn't done, things i want to do, all my hang ups.
i wish it would snow more. i hate it when the world turns grey after the first snow. i want it pure white, full of light, like it was the first night, a big snow storm. i would love to be stuck inside with you right now. isn't it weird that everytime i write on this i always write to you? in my journal, entries are directed to you that you never read. i feel comfortable writing things to you but not letting you read them. i hope those things will change.
i love you and i need to go. this was random, but i hope someone understands.

ill post the story that night get published tomorrow.