Guess this is still around, although no one reads it anymore. I think that might be a good thing.
Reading my old writings has been rather depressing. Of course, I'm just in a self pity mood these days.
I don't read as much, believe it or not. I still don't.
Still working at the same place.
Still living in the same place.
Still with the same guy (for now, I think he's getting worn out and vice versa).
My dog passed away. That was probably the single most devastating thing that has happened to me in a long time.
Stopped writing for a real long time, but am slowly trying to get back into it. The noticed how terrible my writing skills have become. No adjectives and riddled with spelling and grammar errors.
I sit in the cubby walls, lit by the painful unnatural light only to see how life has moved on so quickly without my noticing.
Feelings of joy become mixed with envy when I see how many people have proceeded to excel at life and living. For most, they work so hard I cannot help but be proud and try to let the world know how great they are. For the few, I wonder how it is that life looks like a gentle clean breeze that does nothing more than sweep the few off their feet in an easier and more fruitful life in comparison to the world I dwell.
Who knows, maybe this and the other will slowly be the knock I need to wake up out of this unbearable stasis.
The conclusion, I complain way too freakin much. And therein lies another complaint.