Five minutes, any day. Spent writing—something anything not for anyone anything no edits no outlines no plans no correction, this is where it goes.enjoy.

Thursday, December 8, 2011


Sometimes I think I am a very cynical person.

I'm happier than most, yes.  Well, maybe not most, but a lot of people anyhow.  I have things to be thankful for:  I'm surrounded by great people, plenty of things I need, I'm provided for, loved by my family, I'm being educated, furthered, sheltered, loved.  I have a lot.

And yet, happiness is not derived from what you have.

Joy is not a result of circumstances.

Sometimes I think I'm a very cynical person.

I have a lot, but I still want more.  I have plenty of friends, but I still feel alone, and yet I have no wishes to get to know anyone new.  I have so few responsibilities, but the weight of them and those to come is dreadfully crushing.

Sometimes I just have really awful days.  Not on the outside, of course, but the inside.  I can be a very hateful person, towards people, towards things, towards circumstances.  I am a malcontent.

How hard would it be to look up at the sky every once in a while?

To have your feet on the ground, but your eyes on the stars.

Dreamers get let down, of course.  But doesn't everyone?

When did I decide that dreaming wasn't worth it?


I need to be reminded of the little things, sometimes, I think.

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