I've found myself thinking about my travels across the eastern u.s. And I feel the fear that wieghed so heavily on me to the point I wouldnt care if people disliked me , and blinded me to my path. I think its probably the saddest thing about meeting all those wonderful, crazy, evil, blind, and senseless people friends and strangers. I look at it and feel like theres pieces missing.
Some thought goes into it. Perhaps blamming my overdose on lost memories, but i remember the people. I'd forgotten a few because of it, and took me months to remember faces. Which is how i remember people, and some i never too or couldnt take pictures of. It bothers me that for all that freedom i feel that its burdensome, and i just want to hide myself in a little room. Sadly Kate and i moved out of that scaredy hole i hid in, and at times more often than not i find a strong yerning to be back in that room. I wonder with scared sadness if i'll ever make it on my own or even out with Kate.
I wish i could just keep busy with projects and play music till i've fallen asleep...
If half the fb friends list treated me like a flesh in blood friend i'd feel blessed. Instead i was blessed with one GF with the force of a tank to hand my woes, and issues.
The drama i have will some day fall back in time and form an iceburg that'll sink mans dreams and kill hundreds. Till then i will mill it down best i can and try not to let my photo archive cause a depression that sinks me.
Travels of aimless
