I can feel it wearing off. Like a wonderful day spent riding in the backseat of a traveling car taking in the sights as they pass, but it fluctuates. What am I waiting for? My spirit is dying. All promises or goals have become somewhat humorous to me now. I miss the past. Comfort. Freedom. Friendship. Trust. Direction. Closeness. Familiarity. Confidence. Love. Laziness. The hour is early but late to those who have not seen sleep yet. I think I could go on for hours but responsibility steps in the way. Minor addictions worsen. Tomorrow, tonight will seem foreign and eventually forgotten.
December 15, 1998