Another schoolnight case of insomnia. I haven't felt like writing lately. I suppose that has a lot to do with the fact that there isn't much new. Things are getting better, but nothing is new. I have even failed to make the usual silly observations. No awkward moments of chaos driven by an outburst from my mouth.
No hangover mornings full of regrets and painkillers; My liver is taking a holiday. There are a few new people in my life, but they are very new. Infact, I am sure several of them might still have that new car smell.
I have a handful of blog posts saved as 'edits'. i haven't really contemplated their release. I wondered how important any of myramblings are, and why they always had to be about me.
My feelings for, reactions to, hidden agenda of...etc. What about telling the stories of the people that I know?
Would my friends get paranoid and assume I am taking notes on them? If they are unnerved, I think I like it.
Between several handwritten letters, the journal that is constantly near me, the book I am developing characters for and the book I lost-found & lost again- I can't possibly keep up with this gratuitously sensitized recount.
enough about me.
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2 comments:
nooooooooooooooo there is NEVER enough about YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i love reading about YOU !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! its the next best thing to living close enough to be able to talk in person everyday, which we can, which sucks !
i have had this blog just so i can read yours lol but its about time i started my own, i feel like if i write down the things on my mind right now, it will be better than absolutely exploding in my boss and co-workers faces which i feel may be just around the corner at the rate!
so my words for you are dont go, pease dont go..dont go away , please dont go... im actually singing it
and thats a typo, should be we CANT, WHICH SUCKS! not we can meehhhhhhhhhhh!
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