Weblog

Sure, I'm doing something with my life, but I really wish that I was doing something with my life. Repetition gnaws at my soul, but it's not stopping me from playing the same song over and over. Spontaneity is what my heart longs for, but, whenever she acted spontaneous, she seemed more of a girl and less of a woman. My mind keeps dreaming of life headed in another direction, but nothing that I'm doing or plan on doing is going to move me towards that other path. Right now, at this very moment, every ounce of my being — every single grain of who I am — wants to take nonsensical sentences and arrange them in such a meticulous grammatical fashion to keep you the reader in suspense, but the reality of the situation is that I'll end up going to sleep instead. It is 1:00 AM after all.