I'm tired of being alone. Loneliness eats away at us makes miss the world and all it has to offer. I'm tired of it. Fed up with not seeing things and doing things that a part of me says I should at 24. Feeling things that are well to put it mildly... Normal. I've always been humanity's watcher, recording the experience of people that have grown up from 1990 onward. Pondering the potential of what could be, what is and what I hope doesn't occur. It sickens me now that I don't have a moment of realism of events that I can reflect on and tell stories others will relate to. I have a journal that records the deep thoughts and observations from 2001 onwards. The pathetic part of all of this is that I hope someone will actually find it and read it after I'm old, or dead. I hope they gain hope and wisdom from the writings and reflections of a young boy, a teen and later a man going through the journey of life. But honestly how can they if there are not familiar points for them to connect with? No breakups that lead to sleepless nights and tiny heartbreaks found in mundane objects. which without warning can tear a heart open like a shard of glass. With a severe lack of happy moments recorded how will they know I was more than the tortured soul writing in the cover of darkness. How would they know what exactly makes me feel unbeatable, strong and brave? Maybe it's in there and some academic or clever enough reader will extract meaning from the words I didn't choose or left out. Assuming it ever sees another set of eyes besides my own. Perhaps a change is in order. Rebel against what was and embrace what could be. It's be quite the fight against my reflection and I have to wonder if I would come out better.
amandla
pixelskylines
prguitarman
