Took a time out. Gatoraid. Power Bar. Back at it.

Oh blank page, I want to make love to you. Right now. 4:30 AM. Lets get it.

The music of writing. Completely the worst part of withdrawals these past few weeks. That last blog, claiming to be my 'last blog', titled as so... well, obviously not so. I was looking threw a foggy, blinded, beat up and thrown away lens and I really thought I was going to give up. Not just on voicing my thoughts and venting, but on life in general. The details of the situation are unnecessary, but to paraphrase: I had another cross roads in the middle of my cross roads. That cliche of '1 step forward, 2 steps back' hit me like bus and it left me disabled. I felt like I was watching myself act. No thought. No rationale. No goal. Deer in the head lights. And all I was thinking was... its about that time.

Every thinker goes there. Convicted, maybe not. But flirting with the notion of letting go of all this chaos and free falling into the unknown is a motif I've fallen victim to. I was drafting letters to loved ones every night for a week. And shortly after, would burn them and bawl. Not because I didn't like the content, but mainly because I've been making such positive steps these past few months that the closure of a suicide note was like setting fire to my discipline. To my drive. To everything I've been exhausting every last bit of energy into.

Also, I fucking loathe hand writing. Sloth processing. My gears move too fast for the pen and usually, by the end of a note book page, my words look like a 4 year olds drawing. And not one that's worthy of being put up on the fridge even. Lines and arrows and huge scribbles over entire sentences. Just not my thing. My soul is dedicated to the keyboard. Its like my piano. My fingers call this home.

Regardless, these past few weeks have been good. Isolated, but good. Yeah, I took my steps back. But I kicked every addiction known to man. Even Facebook. I mended some bridges that needed to be addressed. I took some time for myself. And I did alot of internal construction. Built some concrete goals and morals.

I've learned a lot about myself lately. What I need. What I want. What I dream about. Who I want to be. And everything has led me up to this conclusion :

Its easy to throw stones. Its easy to slide down slippery slopes. Sometimes a day of fermenting a thought makes it age perfectly. Or at the very least, stops words from just being words. I've grown sick of unmeaningful meanings. I've lost faith in finding all the answers or figuring everything out. The questions are what I need to be present in. Live them. Question them. Love the chaos. Embrace the perplexities. And never give up on myself because... after all is said and done

I am all I have.