i have been thinking about pulling my hair out lately, but i am not sure how much that would accomplish, so i have not.

i think my writing has changed as a direct result of more schooling, both stylisitically and volumetrically, and i am not sure if i like it. i like what i used to be able to say, but i think i was more campy than now. whereas now i feel i stick more to points, but (even more) boringly so.

not coming across well in person, in photos, in conversation, or through text, the combination is difficult to get around. if you add in the fact i feel i cannot be bothered to make an effort, sleeping is becoming a more and more attractive option.

it is sad and melodramatic to say, but i am not looking forward to some day anymore, whether distant or approaching. while it used to be just frustrating that the day was always some other day, now there is no point to shoot for or axiously await.

it is overstatement, though i do not think that much of one, to say that chances become less each day; but i cannot shake that feeling. so i am giving in. again. whatever direction the winds blow, that is the direction i will be taken. i am tired of fighting against the obvious. something will happen. even sinking is something. and it's not like i have killed an albatross.




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number 9.. .   .? andy andy andy, get your adverbs here

it happens from time to time