Though, oddly enough I feel very dead today. So maybe I was alive yesterday, but dead today, and everything I'm doing is just for all the most illogical of reasons? Irony, maybe? I don't know. I don't feel ironic. So I'm not.
Tonight was great. Today was not. I'm really not going to get into anything specific because i don't want this to be my space to bitch, I just want this to be my space to think and to get things out, to work things out in my mind while writing things that I'm not sure really exist or where they go or how they get there or why they're inside me to begin with. I just want to write.
I'm also sick of feeling sorry for myself and wallowing in my privileged life when I can actually be doing something more productive- like help someone else have a more privileged life. I'm tired of not going for what I want because I'm afraid and I'm, I'm just tired. Fuck this. I'm going to sleep. Tomorrow will be a new day, with new things to write and new things to discover. I will say, however; before I go, that the moon was perfect tonight and swings make everything better.
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