Tuesday, February 28, 2012


I never liked to write for an audience, but at the same time it makes you ponder why the hell you're writing in the first place. Mostly to get my ideas out and down and then when I forget them they're not forgotten. More words will have to come, and more thought will have to be put into their structure and organization. I'm not worried about that, I'm more worried about that audience listening, focusing, and feeling used and abused.

I'm smarter than the people I write for because why would I write towards things that are above me? I've run myself into too many circles and for that I will encounter a title worth having. Or so one should hope.

There's not a lot of darkness in this city. I mean, it gets dark but I never see black. It's a manufactured darkness with absolutely no depth. A night-light for the city life. I've been forced into a environment that I can grow comfortable with quickly, but realistically I'll never fit into the mold. That's all alright though, I mean, I guess it's okay to be that way.

The seclusion of mother nature is haunting, because you're never actually alone. The issue is that you're never with other people. Other people are predictable, they are good, they are bad, they mean no harm, they want to live, love, laugh, cry, shit, and die like the rest of us. Wilderness though, wild animals survive, daily. They don't see me as more of a threat than any other living being within the kingdom. I am no body here.

I long for the days when I was not watched and I long for the days where I may break the twigs and scare the life.