Seeking Lucrative Petrol Trade Agreements
we have many eyes. right now, my body's eyes record images at roughly 24 frames a second, then flips them right-side-up to feed them through two little nerves into a part of my brain that can register such images. i see the dark burgundy of my background sowed with a neat little columb of icons. i see a sneaker pimps album loaded into my winamp playlist. and i see this entry. my minds eye, when turned inwards, sees a wasteland, barren and scarred. wind swept sand dunes of interest, thats all there seems to be. i see me, but thats to be expected. i see strength, but thats only there to mask my weakness. i see kindness to cure my loneliness. i see wisdom to hide my ignorance. each trait reacting to its negatively polar opposite. naivete'. i find little bits and pieces of excitement here and there, but there is no passion. i just dont know how to cultivate my own lust. like the germans of WWII, i require a steady import of petrol to sustain any sort of effort. i need people. and damnit all if thats wrong. its better than feeling my eyes greying out.