Random maddness

Am I clinging onto an impossible dream? Where my storybook romance is played out where the two lived happily ever after? So many children stories depict almost impossible scenarios. Yet even now twenty seven years grown, I find myself desiring that ending, that 'perfect' sunset. I am tired of the stress, tired of trying to find my place in this universe.

My only outlook now are these keys on this keyboard, the thoughts in my head and the dreams that accompany them. I struggle everyday with the realization that what I say is pointless to the millions of readers out there, that I in fact a fraud when it comes to poetry and literature.



I feel as though my inspiration has been stolen from my grasp, slipped through my fingers like sand. Words of passion that never burned as brightly as they did that day, washed away by the rising tide. I am a man stripped of his most valuable possession, and every time I stand to dust myself off, something has to come by and knock me back down again. When I would write in my journal, I often spoke of knocking at depression's door. Could it have been that I grabbed the handle and opened it a crack?

My Center has been invaded by turbulent emotions, raw desires, and passionate dreams and goals the weight of it all crushing down upon me and my only outlook for all the troubles is slowly starting to fade away....