Unwritten

I am so unheathily nocturnal. It's by choice these days or nights if you want me to be specific. I do get tired of having to be so politically correct, if speaking freely is so controversial. Ai yi yi.

I don't enjoy having my dreams shot down by the world, by reality, by what some would call fate. They aren't dead.

What I'm talking about isn't even recent, it's completely unwritten so far from where I stand.

I've got to go the way I've got to go. I'm a passionate person and I would be unhappy winding up with a bland occupation. I think I've just lost my hold on my dorm to a south weber girl who is driving my cousin up the wall.

Life unfolds itself each day, taking and then adding. I'm getting older. The grounds are shifting again and I'm almost comfortable with it if that's the word. Almost.

Changes send me off in streams of thought. We spend our whole lives trying to classify only to rearrange... It's an uncontrolled experiement with infinite varibles. It even boils down to the probability of a possiblity.

The roads are wide. I'm trailing off at highspeeds, and this time I have no guardrails.