Sometimes I feel like my thoughts and feelings don’t exist unless I write them down. I haven’t been writing often recently, so they get all built up and backed up. They pile up more and more inside of me until them come spilling out all over the place in ways that don’t make sense: usually in the form of incoherent rambling to anyone around that seems mildly interested in what I have to say.
I get frustrated with people a lot. I feel like no one really takes life seriously. Is everyone’s main priority cost and convenience? Contrary to what people say, it seems to me that most people care about their money first and then their comfort. The lives of those around them and even their own lives take minimal concern.
I need to go home so I can make things I guess. I thought I was really in the mood for writing.
Apparently not.
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