Reading through today's daylogs I hardly feel worthy. So many people finding or losing love or creating or setting course on their lives. It doesn't matter, I'm writing for myself. The critical, impatient eye of Everything serves only to remind me to cut the crap.

My girlfriend has continued to propose to me, proclaiming an inconceivable love, and I.. I can't imagine it. As if she's suggesting setting up in llama farming. It's not that I don't love her. The connection she has in my heart is deep and tender. Yet, I have doubts about how she fits into my life at the moment -- and I fit into hers. Circumstances are hard. She is being pressured into working long hours for qualification she craves. I am sitting idly by, thinking too much, before I start work in a week's time, working for the money.

I sometimes feel the urge to just do something; to take my life in my own hands and shape it into something worthwhile. I fear falling into a groove and forgetting myself. I'm too young to be bitter and twisted yet I think that is how I'm going to turn out unless I check out of the no surprises motel soon.

Taking a few weeks out between jobs has been a shock to the system. The removal of structure has, at times, left me feeling confused and directionless. Like a caged animal with it's door left open. It requires an increase in confidence that comes from taking risks and surviving. I need to take considered risks to remind me what it feels to be alive. The easy road leads to hell.

So this is the purpose of this write-up, to remind myself to avoid the slow death.

I didn't mean to write this much.