[	Current Mood	|	uncomfortable	]
[	Current Music	|	Tim Buckley-Song to the Siren	]

I'm having that undying urge to write, again. I can't even remember the last time I ever wrote anything of significance. I'm not going to claim writer's block because I know my problem- I'm running on empty. And I have been for awhile. The distractions of reality are getting to me and I can only force myself to turn a cheek and continue with my pursuits. But that's it, I'm on two sides. What is it I'm pursuing? 

Those drying dreams of mine. That vast ocean I could once see has spilt over the edge of the Earth and vanished.

There are many fresh ideas in this world and I'm not yet one of them. Will I ever get there. To that peak of my own desire. I'm sick and tired of contemplating and having the urge without even acting on it. To be free of question, ah, what bliss. I mean of course questioning the surface topics are worthwhile but to constantly ponder on why the fuck I am here is tiring when anyone has yet to figure that out. "I was born to film," that's what I always believed. But I'm more than that. I'm more than that passion for illusionment and camera angles. 

Shit, I'm out. Out of the answers. Why do I constantly want more? I'm waiting for one of those endings where the answer comes running through my door. With the limitless people in the world I sense that bitter loneliness. Those who have named me friend, I feel distant, no matter how we spend our time. I can't connect to myself. I'm so fuckin worried about what is going on in my head I've almost turned my whole back on the world with attempts to smile at passersby with hope of making their days better. Can they see it in my eyes? The battle that is their own. 

Eh, who am I to say that they are in a "battle." 

I'll die someday and I'm trying my hardest to not die before my body does.  


. . . the one who I am will soon unfold. Just a day at a time. A day at a time.