Before, I’ve written about what is happening to me at the time. But, as I sit here now, physically alone and emotionally detached, I don’t feel like anything is happening to me. It has been so long since I wrote anything of personal note or merit, nothing that I am proud of or feel deserves a self created ficticious award. It has been a long time since I was sat with anyone and felt a direct connection, I used to feel a conduit between me and people, a correlation between me and other existences. But lately, that has gone. Not since being away, escaping from my normative life and constrictive personality, have I felt like a real person. My emotions exist only as a written form, unable to be truly expressed with real actions. I feel that there are so many things that should have been said face to face, so many incidents lived, so many situations experienced. But none of them have been. Do you think it is right to miss someone? Do you think it is right to miss someone you have never seen? I’m wondering right now; wondering why, since my last visit to this inner-self, the world has turned to corporate media mush. Maybe it’s always been like that and I’ve just been naive and unquestioning, that seems most likely. But now I’m sitting on my bed, wondering why I can’t write anything of vague substance anymore, wondering when I lost what indistinct orchaestration of words I had. I feel lost.

Things are formless, create what you will with the ideas and depictions of thought you have wondering aimlessly in your mind.