Laying Here in Limbo

I am dreaming every night, which is something. They're good dreams, the kind where I am mountain climbing, or going back to Allegheny and running into people. I wake up every morning with confidence, at least before I remember the way the world is these days.

It's kind of a daze until then. Laying in bed as my eyes adjust and my muscles stretch, my mind slowly grapples with the day. It doesn't matter that the mountains I climb are too tall or that the people I run into are fictional; in my dreams I am indomitable.

Wordlessness

Somedays, words have meaning. On other days, not so much. I feel like I should be more tethered to words than I am, but I can't seem to help it any. Sometimes they come, sometimes they don't, sometimes they leave anyway. That's a lot of probability for something that requires dedication, right?

Despite all of my directionless endeavors though, writing is one endeavor I have spent plenty of half-assed years with. Words don't always make sense, but they're always there. Regardless if I take them seriously, find myself with any talent stringing them together, or simply get used to them, they are, and always have been, defining.

Catapults

Undergraduated, unemployed; you understand. Twenty-something! Hallelujah! Who would have possibly wondered that these might be the most boring years of my life?

Each day is the same sweet mildness, but I've got an idea: I am going to torch all of my stuff. Really get in there and embody that great vague ideal that my directionless lifestyle encapsulates. Maybe if I sever the tethers and flap in the wind for a little while I'll land somewhere. Or a long while. Or a medium while. I could do a medium while, but all in all I don't think it very seriously matters; I will land somewhen.

In honesty though, I never really quite understood the diference between being pragmatic and being idealistic.

Eternality

Hey, I'm sorry...I know it's been a long while. These times are weird, these times are frivolous. It's hard to keep it all in perspective, it's all rather overwhelming. I'm obligated to make something of this all but I can't seem to keep my wits about me. I'm just not as young as I used to be.

I don't want to be defined by a place or by a person. I want it to be intrinsic, I want it to be internal, eternal, and ever so righteous. I don't understand why this isn't easier.

Well, here I am out of place in Vermont again. Here I am in a similar place, and I'm gonna try and make the best of it, god I am going to try and make the best of it, but I'm volatile in all the wrong ways and I can't help but feel stagnant and stupid.

Explanation

It's hard to find a way to say that lately you have been feeling self-absorbed without it sounding self-absorbed.

Moving Blocks

I remember when I was just a kid I thought that the worst part of prison would be the boredom. When games of tag got out of hand, the cold compartmentalizing bars just seemed so cruel. Then, I was used to people watching me shit; no privacy for idle hands when motivation is a sugar high. Those awful lunches while avoiding recess punches, and I didn't know the half of it. But what I didn't really understand most of all, was that after they cut you into individual cells, sometimes they gave you books to read before lights out.

Relax

Sometimes I think things don't have to be so complicated. If my impulse to solve gets me any deeper though, I think I might really lose myself.

So right now, starting now, things don't have to be so complicated.

Always Aging

I think I'm lost again. But honestly, how am I supposed to tell anymore?

Someone called me old the other day, is this one of those life-crises? I want to jump from the tallest tree and fly. I want to fly somewhere that will finally fill me up, or at least somewhere new.

I am going to throw away all of my things.

Tricky Tracks

I wish to be reborn myself! I have lost track of losing track, I am secluded in something like nothing now, and that just doesn't feel quite right.

These days just tick by. I guess because I still have to graduate, but when is waiting ever okay? Applying for jobs and internships, crossing fingers on all the different avenues that someone might maybe let me walk, is this liberty? Is this life? Too fearful of the future to fly.

Maybe that is why I keep coming back to this shadow. Here, this uncompromising inability to fulfill or focus, it defies all of that shit.