about lonely & futility, why do i blog
I'm not going to make an 'about' page because no six words or seven sentences could tell anybody who I am. I'll leave it here
I'm very lonely. I have many acquaintances but I've long figured laying down bare bones who. I. am. is futile. Everybody's comfortable where they're at. Telling is pointless. I don't mind it, really. I happily call/text whoever is in town, invite to eat and drink together, watch or play something, then go home temporarily feeling less lonely.
'Unfortunately I won't be back' 'Damn.'
I try to write down everything but writing down everything gives the same feeling when you run out of breath. You dread even attempting reading everything. There is no reason and a thousand reason to have a blog. You can try writing poetry. Few days ago, mildly speaking, I felt strongly inspired. My brain was spilling abundant creative juices it made me happy, really. That night, I reread everything and I thought, excluding one or two poems, everything sucked. The easiest person to fool myself is myself. No regrets.
The incredible thing about sleeping is you're still alive even when you're sleeping. You take this quite for granted however. Still the same Time from Genesis yet moments in time we call them distinct in 'seconds', 'minutes', 'hours', ... 'days'.... Gazing at the peerless night sky.. Ohh if there were only a furry cat to hug onto
I'll stay quiet for now. Catch my breaht