I dread it. I dread the future at times. I am sitting here, contemplating my parent's happiness. I don't sense much, I feel scared at times, and there really is nothing I can do but accept the sad fact of the world's imperfection. I feel used at times. I feel like a user other times. I am listening to Sublime and typing somewhat ragged, to be expected after three glasses of wine. So many assignments on the horizon, so much opportunity for failure. Or success, depending on how I look at it that day. I take pictures. I dance in front of the mirror. I die a little everyday. I feel the weight of depression sometimes. When I am low, I am low. When I am high, I am happy and stoned and generally out of it, not thinking. Until my brain kicks my heart in the butt, and I start thinking. I think, I think, I think. I think. After all is said and done, I just fucking think. And stare, and wonder, and think, and love, and leave, and wait. Time after time, moment upon moment, hour on hour. It all goes so fast. I can't catch up with myself.
Nothing inspirational tonight, folks. All musings brought on by a ridiculous conversation/ fake palm reading/ the arrival of my parents/ speaking to my mom. Just friends. Evilness.