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There are times I contemplate whether or not I'd be able be able to… - Katastrophic Kacophony!
The Sound Became Unbearable
There are times I contemplate whether or not I'd be able be able to write as I used to anymore or even if it matters. I still enjoy my ability to devour a book but don't seem to have it in me to just sit down and write something of substance. There aren't any quirky lines to writing about myself and such. I don't have any tricks up my sleeve or nothing beyond what the next bare-bones writer/blogger would expect. This being the case, I don't really care about writing at this time. I have others to write about me or spread the word of my name for both good and bad. I believe I'm probably much more content being someone else's protagonist. Let them figure out how they wish the story to go and how their saga with me continues and/or ends.

Beyond unsure about my writing, there isn't much outside of the usual. Still trapped in my mind regarding how to proceed with a certain someone and balancing between what I perceive as guilt vs. objectively seeing what's going on. I'm sure it'll work itself out in the end; if nothing else I'm pretty patient. Work is still work, the great distraction. I do work simply to pay bills and fuel my drinking expenses so that I could relax for the weekend and not have to think too much. I'm sure this'll take on a different notion once certain things get resolved, but for now its the cycle I'm involved in.

I figured I'd at least update this once to keep ground of where I am with myself as I'm starting to become less frequent with these updates as time continues to go on.


Mode of Living: blank blank

Into The Forest