its 2:38am
and i'm restless.
and bored.

and not poetic at all.
nor am i artistic.
i wouldn't be able to draw a straight line with a ruler.
hah!

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

i find myself at a loss
i ponder what life is all about
and ask what is my purpose.

friends in vritual / real life
find me a happy person
one who can help them feel good about life

then there's my family
who think i'm melancholic
and maybe i am

i tend to over-analyze
and i tend to over-criticize
everything that i say and do

and then i remember
that i should be thankful i'm alive.
i tend to take life for granted
besides other things.

and i often complain
that i'm bored.
bored of what though?
i know not.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

i need some inspiration.
i am going to read Saint Joan tomorrow for the umpteenth time.

your dead body did not feel the spade and the sewer as my live body felt the fire