all you do is talk about yourself, for yourself, as people across the globe are crying and dying.

Flourescent light agitates an otherwise agile mind as I sit here, hung over from a night of too much drinking, a Tuesday, mind you, I’m not focused, unsure, and repeating the exact same mistakes over and over and over again. I want growth but I want many things. I want peace and yet I’m not willing to fight for it. I want sanity but then sanity is quite boring, monotonous, the mainland.

I am nothing more than a manifestation of thoughts and worries, fears, ideals and emotions…..I have a soul………I pout and whine and complain that this that and the other can't be mine…that I can't be around from now until the end of time..to see and observe..why is now the ideal time for the progression of time when from time to time all I want to do is pass from here to there, running and searching, forging through life without much of a plan, home to end up who knows where.

I’ve been hiccupping all day long, I’m tired and wired, I crave requited love, I, I, I, me, me, me…on and on and on, again and again until one is completely tired of hearing about it, except me.And yet it’s obviously silly to feel this way. “You have SO MUCH going for you,” I’m told time and time again. Maybe I use excuses to avoid this realization, to fulfill a primary need, a lack of responsibility, of manning up and growing up. Talk is cheap and easy. Talk fills the airwaves of my hazy mentality misdirecting me along a haphazard path of half truths. I’m talking but I’m not doing.Where do I go when no one knows where the wind truly blows….follow the flight of sparrows? Cut swiftly through the riff-raff, revealing the straight and narrows? Or swallow a little white pill to soften a harsh reality of madness and sadness, calm and aware, alone and alive, devoid of an everpresent burning sexual drive.

I’m lost.