An Entry to Pass the Time.
Date: May 24th, 2006 1:13:20 am - Subscribe
Mood: Alone, like always.
Music: Beck - "Everybody's Gotta Learn Sometime"

Golden and magenta clouds sink to the distant ground, while still maintaining their air-like structure. Plastic keys, not fitting for locks, are tapped slightly, creating a rough rhythm for me to follow. My fingers conduct them with some sort of purpose, but I myself don't even know it's true meaning. Really, what is the meaning? Is my time too hollow for me to enjoy it? Is there even any point to it... a plot, characters, anything.

I don't think so.

It's just my restlessness driving me with some insane force. It presses me to pump out words that flow together majestically, but always resemble a pile of rocks over time.

Am I a poet?
Can I show it?
Can I even rhyme?
Make you laugh,
Make you cry.
Dazzle you with every line?

Well of course not. But if I was, would I want it? Would I even want to write a few stanzas down and show them to you? Bah, I doubt it. My words look better hidden behind pages, rather than being in the open for all to see.

Would you like to judge me, and criticize me?
Point and laugh foolishly?

Again I bring myself to the question of what the point of this is. I still don't know, but I'm sure my subconcience does.
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playwright - May 25th, 2006
Restlessness, you say. Now, this might be totally irrelevant, but I just watched The Matrix for the millionth time last night, and there's a line that sticks out to me. Trinity says, "It's the question that drives us." I don't remember the rest, but it doesn't really matter. There are so many questions. Who knows if this is real? I am reminded of our past conversations, and brought to the conclusion that we live because there is nothing else, and because we are searching for some proof or some disproof of our existence or of anything, really. We're so small, but we're all looking for something to complete us.


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