It's been a while. But there it is, nagging at me. That urge to type. To get something out on paper, or pixels... whatever.
Problem is I never really have any idea where to start, or where to go in the middle, or even the end for that matter. But it works all the same, the therapy of spilling something out. The ease of fingers flying over the keyboard. Just as the journey is more important than the destination maybe the typing is more important than the content. For me atleast. There's something special about being able to just sit and type, as if all emotions can be lost and somehow controlled through the fingertips.
Urgh, I should be working. I have so much to do, and no idea what I should do. Why is life so damn complicated. I know where I want to be, I just don't know which path to take to get there, infact I think the path I want is a bushbash between the few.
Where the two roads diverge in the yellow woods, and sorry I couldn't be one traveller and travel both and long I stood and stood I long for longer still, still standing still. Looking down one as far as I could but then the other just as fair, and back the way I came over. I could have all 3 if I stay right here I could have all 3 potentially. But then I see the roads are getting shorter at the far end, we only have so much time. So I have to choose, I have to trust.
I think my life is a foggy day, and the paths cannot be seen from where I stand, so I stumble on, never sure if I'm making progress or going backwards, spinning in circles, round and round.
11 days now, 11 days 'till clarity. Till I get my head back. It's great having someone who helps you clear your mind just by being there =D