should write, don't wanna... *rambles*
The more I sequester myself amid my own interests, the more strange and oddly choreographed the outside world appears. An eerie, unspoken shock paralyzes me whenever I return to this environment, garbed in the conventional facade which I seem so stubborn to discard, and the true absurdity of both my act and theirs reveals itself, amassing obviousness with each further incident. Although I remain unwilling to relinquish the aspiration for uniqueness, I continually combat its adverse condescension and the distance is obviates; I gain contact only with my own will. What was once aspired for now seems just as distant and undesired as what was left behind. Inconsequential, the option of retreat has passed. I hear nothing ahead.
Going through all my notes and what-not, I realize just how much I repeat myself, dwelling endlessly on the same ceaseless drivel without resolution or initiative.
In jest, I let truths slip in as unnoticed self-mockery. Such concealed candor yields the necessary, surreptitious relief.
I'm not sleeping enough, yet I'm not gaining any more time for its lack. Stability regained: implementation required. I have a plan collecting dust as I stall in marginal capacity. These fragments may not be enough.
The more I sequester myself amid my own interests, the more strange and oddly choreographed the outside world appears. An eerie, unspoken shock paralyzes me whenever I return to this environment, garbed in the conventional facade which I seem so stubborn to discard, and the true absurdity of both my act and theirs reveals itself, amassing obviousness with each further incident. Although I remain unwilling to relinquish the aspiration for uniqueness, I continually combat its adverse condescension and the distance is obviates; I gain contact only with my own will. What was once aspired for now seems just as distant and undesired as what was left behind. Inconsequential, the option of retreat has passed. I hear nothing ahead.
Going through all my notes and what-not, I realize just how much I repeat myself, dwelling endlessly on the same ceaseless drivel without resolution or initiative.
In jest, I let truths slip in as unnoticed self-mockery. Such concealed candor yields the necessary, surreptitious relief.
I'm not sleeping enough, yet I'm not gaining any more time for its lack. Stability regained: implementation required. I have a plan collecting dust as I stall in marginal capacity. These fragments may not be enough.
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