NeVeR In MoDeRaTiOn

Im feeling very jealous... Of myself.

I read my previous posts and realized... where did this boy go? Where have I been? Has the wind taken me far enough that I have forgotten? Did I really write all that?

And I envy dedication to writing of some people and itll be my foolishness wondering to be like them. Time does have a way of sweeping you up- the difference is recognzing when and how and why. Upon coming back down- your perspective is always different. Isnt life so weird and beautiful at the same time?

I do love to write. It seems natural for me to write everyday without heistation. I feel as though once I stop writing- I stop have a lust for knowledge and the desire to learn becomes somehow less. I fail to notice the things that I would normally write about. I fail to notice the culture and life around me as I used to ..-- because writing is truly a vehicle of expressing that which you cannot put into everyday talk. I dont want to just become part of the mundane everyday existance but I thrive being on the outside looking in. What Im trying to say is- writing allows me look at the world in a different light. Because I know that later on, I can document it all.. put it in symbols and words that I wouldnt have usually come up with if I didnt have the anticipation to come home and write about it.

Okay thats enough writing about writing. You get my drift.

Months gone by, and again I sit here wondering how it all happened. Where am I going. Where is this world taking me. Is is really up to me to propel it? Or am I still waiting on some miracle to just fall in my lap?

Wake up calls all around me. I often feel I am in a constant daze. Maybe I am not drinking enough coffee.