Sunday, December 18, 2005

 

12.18.05

It's one of those moments when you've lost your knowledge of your own abilities.

You question how many you have, how skilled or talented you really are.

What happened to it? To them? Are they just lying dormant for a short period of time, hibernating?

Or were they never really there?

Did you let it go?

What are you good at?

What is your passion?

What do you do when you're a little of a lot?

It's a moment when you realize that you really don't know what you want to do.

You sit there and wonder, "What's the point?"

There has to be something better than this.

You're sure of it.

But what if it's not the case?

What are you working towards?

A life of leisure?

One of happiness?

Why is happiness something earned?

A moment of clarity, some would say.

You begin to wonder why you care--

why you did care.

Or even, did you ever really care?

Some things aren't worth fighting for--

and some things you shouldn't have to fight for.

There are things you shouldn't have to fight over.

It wasn't me?

How do you know?

It might be an interchangeable mask dilemma--

it's been switched so many times before, who knows which one was the original?

What happened to the valedictorian, to the genius?

Well, he stopped.

He stopped a long time ago. He ceased to be.

Sorry to burst your bubble.

They want you to do this.

To prove you're better than everyone-- with your edumacation.

Well, I don't want to be better than everyone or anyone.

People are trying so much to be a something when they already are something.

The worse part is, I owe it to them.

I have to pay them back.

But I don't know if I want to continue on like this.

I'm taking from the world what the world didn't give me.

I need stimulation.

And I'm not getting it.

And it's been that way for a while.

There's always been that void and its shield has developed quite a tolerance in the past few years.

That would explain a lot.

Everyone has a security item to keep them comfort.

A blanket. A stuffed-animal. A picture.

Silence has always been mine.

Funny how that works out.

Oh, wait, that's right-- it sometimes doesn't.

Silence isn't golden.

Silence sometimes leads to idiocy and genocide.

You've always wanted to learn how to read people?

It's in their eyes, their actions--

their silence.

That tractor beam line sounds vaguely familiar.

Docking out...
-Ryan : hush, hush

Ryan posted this at 11:06 PM.