I feel compelled to write. I must say something. Anything. What can
I write. There must be something. I shall type endlessly, without
hope, without interruption. Where will this lead? I hope for
salvation, for a better life, a life free of bugs, free of vb, free of
persecution and sloth.
Let me alone a minute. Let me think in solitude. A few minutes,
that's all I ask. I enjoy my solitude. I can be completely free, free
to express myself, free to be myself. Even if there is no one to
express myself to; but maybe that's the most important thing. I've
stopped trying to impress people. It's never worked.
What am I doing, to snap at her so? A simple question asks she, but
my tongue is too sharp for her. The zone, the zone, for the first time
in a long time. An abstraction from the world, I don't want to pay
attention, I just want to press these little switches and convert the
froth on the top of my mind to bits and words, and type on, and
share. Callous then, but afraid now, what damage can such a small
thing cause?
She is like a tender flower to be handled with the utmost care,
gently and carefully. But I am to coarse, too brutal. Oh, what hope
have I for love, if I keep on like this, a lout, thrashing through the
forest of life, crushing small things underfoot as some clumsy
over sized giant. I am not aware of what I do, I must be more careful,
before I make a grievous error and cast all that is good and
wonderful from my life. I can't allow myself to make those kinds of
mistakes again, I should have learned from them by now. I must not
become so absorbed in myself.
Peace. Quiet. That is all I seek now. Away from work, away from
words. Let me read with my eyes closed, but with my mind open. Let me
type with my eyes closed, and we shall see what comes out. Channeling
something, a random stream, like taking random noise and turning it
into something beautiful, that's what I want to do. I've had enough
of structure and order, I want to sit back and enjoy work of beauty
that is nature's, and not worry about what I haven't learned yet. I am
young, there will be much time ahead of me to accomplish things and
learn more. So I shall sit, and observe, and love if I can. Stop and
smell the roses for an hour or two, and see what comes of it.
Ah, it feels so good, this release, this wonderful expression of
words. I am beaten, run down and stressed out, and nothing has
happened yet!
.... That's it. That's all.