School papers I had to write that I thought was interesting.
Poe Journal. I had to do this for English. A lot easier than I thought it would be...
I have been reminiscing on my past quite a bit these last few days. From remembering my mother, Francis Allan, to joining the military. Memories of Virginia and the rude looks that were directed upon us. I can even remember far back enough to my first published works, and my pseudonym, A Bostonian. “The Raven” that was published in eighteen forty-five seems to be the most liked though, even if all I was paid was nine dollars. Children would run up to me and the street and pretend to be the ghastly bird. That was only a year or so ago, not much memory needed to recall such a time.
I have a feeling I will not last much longer, and my thoughts draw to the future after my death as well. Will anyone remember me, or where my family house was? After my death, will anyone visit my grave. Will anyone remember my desolate works? I believe that is enough for now. Maybe I will try and finish the new poem I am writing. I haven't gotten far, just the first few lines. Something about a kingdom by the sea.