Direction, I lack it.

I am so reluctant to write anything at all, but in lieu of nothing better to do I guess I will try to give the most watered down version of the current musings lingering in my mind.  If you were to meet me say, in March you would have met a terribly optimistic person – fast forward to today and you’ll find I’m incredibly cynical and extremely introverted.  I am a mystery to myself.  It seemed like I had such a definitive plan and such vivid dreams for my future all of which washed away like the aftermath of some atrocious storm.  By no means do I require, nor desire sympathy – and if people understand me it is of little consequence.  I find myself spiraling downward into a region where I simply just don’t care about much of anything.  In spite of all that has transpired I do vehemently aspire to be more positive but it seems like I just can’t shake this.  I’ve always been one to hang just around the edge of everyone else, never emerging myself into the mundane with the fervency of the majority of people whom I in some regards I admire and in others, find myself scorning them.  I have a constant case of home sickness, and not because of where I am in the world but just because I am in the world.  I feel other worldly so frequently and alien that I give pause for a moment just to recall that even with all of my differences I still am human, capable of all the same emotions – yet for some reason, that capacity is rarely realized.  Nonetheless, I am here – for what purpose is beyond my scope of understand and what direction my life will go is entirely unpredictable.  Its extremely ironic how much things change in such a short period of time.  I don’t change, just everything around me does…

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