for the things i do

even though the loneliness inside of me is all but gone now, there's a sense that it has been replaced by something else.

probably guilt. the fact that i knew i had that one shot to get it right and i messed it up. and i have a habit of doing that. i've been doing it all my life.

+listening to: you make me smile by aloe blacc

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the muses are heard

the fate of the world lies in a handshake, a smile, a stutter, a nod.

i've been talking to people these past day or so, and what i presumed to be a formality suddenly became a chore: the belabored points-of-interests that interested no-one; the hackneyed expressions that went unnoticed. and when it all ended, i felt a little worse for wear, and ever so slightly disheartened.

i still don't know what i am chasing. is it the american dream? or the all-too-idealistic ideals that fill my head to the brim.. both are starting to seem so unrealistic in this very real world that we reside in. someone must have the answers, is it aristotle or socrates? capote or hemmingway? shannon hoon or kurt kobain?

+listening to: nothing

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