Now this is being written long after the initial flames which were my inspiration died out. Now I'm merely trying to stoke the dying embers. With each second that passes, the will to pen something down fades, just like with so many other entries that failed to publish.
Maybe the object of my life is to shrug off as much responsibility as I can. I'd love to go running in the middle of the night, to see what the city looks like then. I'd love to stay out late without fear of danger or intemperance or immorality.
I could continue writing, but I hardly feel like anymore.
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1 comment:
Writing should be for yourself, and not for others to to read.
Maybe you'd want to continue this if you found out that some people, like me, do read your blog for the powerful language and expressions.
so don't stop. or I'd get bored sooner or later reading these other idiots blogs talking about their love life and blah blah.
peace (:
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