(no subject)
its not that I hate people, or that I crave to be alone. I don’t feel sad or depressed, I feel rather at peace. I don’t feel joyous though. I don’t know what to do any more. I float along in this strange existence. The work will define me, and the homework shall critique until I am nothing more then a test tube with a bank account. Interests, hobbies, signs and excursions. I find it ironic that as soon as I got a car I stared to enjoy walking. I find it easy to describe all the things I’m not thinking, or I’m not perceiving or not feeling...yet impossible to define the true madness and inner most thoughts. I remember now, this is where I started, this is what I did...the paths I took, only different, more fearful, more edgy.... now not so much afraid of the unknown, but sick of the known. Tired of the song. the promise I make to myself only recedes and seems to get farther away.... for now I don’t even think I can see it, but when I least expect it the day will come and the wind will be the only force guiding me. I feel estranged by all I see and do. where does this loyalty to work relations assert itself from? for it is so strong and so pacifistic that it creates a martyr out of my abilities.