Starting out Fresh
Fresh, not like the clean white linens that I like to smell as I open a pack newly bought from the store.
Fresh, like a wound that is just finished healing.
This is how I am starting, comming out from a nightmarish past and flying toward a flashing sun bright future. I can seriously almost picture all the yellows and strong oranges skimming past my eyes as I squint into what I truly hope is one hell of a story. A good story. With a great ending. But I have to get away from all the hustle and bustle of everyday life. I cant see myself getting past pains out without going somewhere quiet to think.
I get closer and closer to sick agitation as I live out this life expected of me.
Get up.
Work.
Sleep.
Get up. Work. Sleep.
The same monotoneous life every one lives and never seems to complain about. Maybe it is because of my unconventional sometimes painful upbringing that I seem to be one of the few to question the inflections crying out in my dark ragged soul. We were made for more then this. Werent we? If not, then why this itch to explore every seductive vista? Why does it kill me to stay in one place for too long?
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