My creativity has once again disappeared leaving me suffocated with the need to express and irritated by lack of inspiration. It is much too easy to let a month or a year pass without even blinking an eye. Youth is gaining a background and with enough memories to publish a book, I have accomplished very little and goals are evidently just something to humor me. As highly as I speak, I realize that I have no direction, or experience, or wisdom. My theories are contradicting, my mind is slow, and my claim to a newfound existence proved to be false.
May 4, 1998