02 August 2010

Same as it ever was.

I come here less frequently than I should like, but I suppose that I can attribute that to the static nature of my life. Same as it ever was. The only thing that changes from one day to the next seems to be the date, the different lines and farthering distance we travel. I keep few friends, some acquaintances, but rarely indulge in trusting another person, though it seems to be becoming fashionable again- to trust.
It could be said that if you wish to further your life, to take another step and dig yourself out of mire, you should let me befriend you, for as I have learned I maintain a magical quality that allows people to become greater than this city, to find what they love or what makes them happy, and then seek it elsewhere. Make no mistake, I do not begrudge these people for leaving. I suppose I could leave, but what in this world could make a man, so discontent, fly past contentment in a yellow ray happiness? or waggle in pale blue and dark green to grow thick roots and leaves and bask simply under a burning sun... caring not about the heat of summer or the snows of winter?
I should look to the positive, but alas I have no will, no desire, to seek out such things on a warm, thick night when even the stars have trouble seeing; have trouble communicating the cold solitude and endless ocean of black choking eternal night where each must be its own light, its own day, its own ray of hope- for who runs to them for hugs and kisses? no, no, it is only wishes they are asked to grant, like a genie confined to a lamp but with less, more distant contact. (sigh)

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