I find it insane. I find it insane that everything I want is attainable. Attainable and in my reach. All I have to do is reach out. This sounds like bliss. Almost too good to be true. I once wrote a story. A story full of passion and everything I wanted. I trashed it.
So now I sit here in this dimly lit building, staring at the crevices in the wall. I walked for an hour before hand and ended up somewhere desolate. I sit not knowing what I want or what to do. Feeling a bit lost.
I came home from work at 1am and just started walking. Needing to clear my head and also wanting to find answers on the ground beneath my feet. Either there or wherever people find answers.
"I am the car" is what I always say. "but it feels like I'm in the passenger seat". That's a bit silly if I am the car. As the car I should be able to travel wherever I wanted, although it feels like I am always wherever others wanted me. I hate it, because most of the people driving me are ones not worthy. Ones who I'll despise in a couple of months.
I hear a dog in the distance and it snaps me out of my head. I stand with a stretch and move to the other side of the room and back not wanting to leave my solitude. As well as not wanting to have to take that hour walk back home with my thoughts telling me how I just traveled somewhere looking for clarity and came back with none. I start the trek.
