Why talk to the atmosphere anyway?
As is probably very easily observed, I rarely speak up about things that are really bothering me. It's a thing. All cryptic bullshit obscuring the substance until there's very little substance. (If you pick up on any, then chances are I've meant for things to be that way.) Thereby assuring that nobody knows what the fuck is wrong. Only that something is, potentially.
Of course, I usually throw on some humor to distract even more. And that's what gets understood. While the other parts ring hollow. Of course, everything I've said is something I've said before. Everything I feel is something I've felt before.
What's my problem? I want something. I want something unattainable. It's not a matter of money or determination. I understand this. My brain connects the concepts and accepts the results of its analysis. That doesn't mean the feeling just vanishes though. It almost did. It almost faded away. I thought about it less and less. It wasn't on my mind as much. Almost a year away from the issue, things were feeling better. Then, one Sunday in April, situations shift. Suddenly, time collapses in on itself, and I'm back where I was.
Hopefully this is temporary. Otherwise, bridges have to burn.
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