Tick, tock, time won’t stop.





Assorted pictures, none taken with my camera. I bought it but I haven’t had a chance to really take any pictures yet and I’m not entirely sure that I like it.

It’s the indecision that’s marking my life right now. I’m drowning, overwhelmed by possibility and obligation, torn between the feelings of monotony and the pain of the unknown. I’m barely getting by, it’s strange. I think I’m happy but I know there’s something pulling at me. We’ve watched the relationship crumble, snap back like a rubber band and maintain. I’m watching myself go through the motions not knowing if I believe or not. I want to. There’s the notion that there’s love enough to go around but it’s always around, a round circle. One wants one, who wants another, who wants still another and the earth is born.
Here I am surrounded by concrete in a great city, a city of greatness and I’m finding myself mediocre. It’s a theme lately. What is there for me? What does the world want?
Karma’s a funny creature. She knows what you want and she withholds it, knowing that you can’t be enough for what wants you. That too is circular, cyclical, unending, unchanging. Fix you Karma, fix your life. But what if that decision could tear your life apart? Leave one for something that’s not even real and then you’ve got a problem. Stay because you think you should and lose what you never even knew you could have had.
Maintain, maintain, maintain. Remain, remain. Abstain. It’s all madness, it’s all pain. It’s a sick, slow refrain. Circling like a buzzard in the desert of the newly dead.
So that’s the weekend update. It’s telling, I tell you. The pictures hold the key. You’ll see.
Decisions, decisions. Not yet. Slowly, steadily, preparing. That’s the way I’m going with this. For now I’m trapped in a glass bowl, emotional, forsaken.
I want to be free. I am secretly free-spirited, I think. I think you knew that, I think it’s apparent. I am counting the days to Rome, to Europe. But then I was thinking, what’s after that?
In my mind, my sick twisted mind, I stay there and fall in love with what’s his face and I lose everything and in real life, I’ll come back here alone and lose everything. So then what? Fresh start. It’s hinging on Europe, for me. Hinging. Swinging back and forth, tipping, precariously. Balance.
I know the answer, I’m not ready.
I need time.

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