All my sand castles fall like the ashes of cigarettes, and every wave drags me to sea.

September 24, 2011

Went to Bondi yesterday with some of my friends, the weather was fairly warm and I have the ever so slightest tan going on, you can see strap lines on my shoulders. The water was freezing cold and there were hardly any waves. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the beach so busy before.
As a comparison of my days, today is cold. It’s dark, it’s cloudy, it’s boring and I’m not spending it with anyone who means anything to me. I haven’t been this bored in a very long time, and since I seem to have lost all talent that use to reside in my right hemisphere, I can not draw nor can I write to past the time. I don’t have the patience to read, not lately. I’m unimpressed and uninspired, and I feel fairly miserable today.  Tomorrow will be much of the same.

I’m thinking of either going into prostitution or drug dealing because for some reason, normal ass forms of employment don’t want me. I think when McDonald’s rejects you, there’s really no where to go from there. Not that the idea of being around meat and oil is all that impressive to me in the first place. I have yet to buy my ticket to Amity, I have $2 and I’m fairly sure I have another $48 to save before I can get it.

There have been a few things bothering me lately. My future, my appearance, my sudden lack of any real skill or interest in anything. Everyone knows what they want to do. Everyone knows what they’re good at, and everyone’s trying to get somewhere. I’m simply existing. Barely. I have to start my major work for Art next term, I have no ideas. Not one. The creative nerves that once stemmed from my brain are dead.
I might spend the rest of today lying around watching tv, and further exhausting my laziness.

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3 Responses to “All my sand castles fall like the ashes of cigarettes, and every wave drags me to sea.”

  1. some really interesting points you have written.

  2. Danniel said

    I really liked the way you wrote. I don’t know, it just seemed really, I don’t know, like, um, it was pretty when I read it in my head, not necessarily the painful truth you wrote about (although I believe your creative nerves will full heartedly steam from your brain again), but just the way you wrote and how the words came out. I don’t know, I liked it a lot.

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