Inspire me again, like it was “back in the day” when optimism and idealism reigned and practicality was just a technicality. Inspire me again like it’s a newfound talent and every angle has yet to be discovered. Inspire me again in the wake of childhood, in the wake of youth where the pressure of time unmasks and defines mortality. Inspire me to stay true to my wants, needs and beliefs before I forget who I’ve always supposed to be.
No one wants to know you on a bad day. When spirits crash and fine lines deepen, facades crumble in a fair-weather world. I just want to be happy in the drab day-to-day, but I’m moody and selfish and prideful in prime, light years away and still suffering from youth. I’m bored with myself and life as I know it. So what do we do when the excitement is gone? Settle in for the long run and keep that dream in mind.
Shrug off the day, it’ll be okay when the morning sleeps and lessens the blow.
In the dark, without an idea, I wait in blind hope with instinct in my ear. I need something to happen, for now is long enough, and I’ve grown old waiting for beginnings.
Dateless entries in the wake of Yellowstone, a long-awaited journey that proved debilitating in the long run. I regret nothing, but after my return I was no longer driven by my obsessive want for travel, open roads and mountains. I came back to reality and responsibility, and it is here that I remain. It happens, truly growing up is a part of life I despise, but having come to terms with this inevitability, I am stranded without a plan. At a loss again and cynical to the point of pure apathy, I struggle for passion, faith and optimism on an everyday basis.
Feeling the loss after years in between, the faster time flies, the more it all makes sense. Leave us be in the misery of the 21st century.