desided

So I sat down planning to write something, anything. I've thought of funny things sad things conflicted and inventive things. At the moment im just tired, through and through. I'm working to try and stop myself thinking not about bad things but about good and hope filled things.

I have ambition to be something fantastical, I want kids, and I want to tell those kids stories that are unbelievable. I suppose selfishly I want their eyes to shine with hope and wonder at the world to brighten mine again. I want to inspire them to a humanity that other people seem to shun or simply disbelieve in.

What I mean, when I say that I dont want to think. Is that when I float in daydreams, I become emerged and euphoric about the inventions and the theories spreading through my critical mind. Fast becoming refined and weathered, to all downfalls. At the end I have something bright and glistening.

Then I realise I cant share it. I dont have crafters hands, music doesnt pour from my soul. I cant transform with a yell a dream that I hope all should share.

I am hoping again and im striving against it. In reality I probably cant own the home that im hoping for or gently romantically entice that girl.

My house in my head, My girl in my heart I go to my bed to dream and depart.




Something entertaining from Ricky Gervais to get your mind off that drivel
Ricky G Rippin teh P