Monday, February 16, 2009


It's 3am, yet sleep eludes me. I'd smoke, but I just ran out of cigarettes. I'd buy some, but I'm way too chicken shit to be out.

It's like I can't even function without them, GOD! I mean, here I sit, staring blankly at the screen, thinking of what to say -- anything, really. It doesn't have to be intelligent or witty. It just has to be... SOMETHING. But no, I continue to look emptily into the screen -- it's like falling into a trap, my mind shuts down and I get cross-eyed.

Sometimes I wonder whether I really am a great writer or just a brilliant mimic. Stripped off anyone else's genius, would I still be as good? Or am I just blessed with eloquence -- do I just have a "clearer" voice? Is it because I'm an articulate person? With all honesty, I can say that my fondest dream would be to come from a more pure place. I will openly admit that I seriously have nothing to say from the bottom of my soul. Not anymore. Now, see here -- it's not about apathy. I can almost hear your groans, snickers, snorts, whatever. It's just that... I've been on auto-pilot for some days now, and I'm waiting for something more extraordinary than my daily routine to happen before I return with a vengeance. Anyways, going back to me not having anything to say from the bottom of my soul, what I do, instead, is take something I like and repackage it in a slightly different way.

It's not as fulfilling, but it gets the work done.

I'm gonna try sleeping once more... if that doesn't work, I'm going out and buying some cigarettes.

Good night, everybody.

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