It's getting harder and harder every day. As I sit down and try to clear my head, I find words escaping me. But it's not because of lack of thoughts. Trust me, there's so much going on, I can barely keep up. Maybe that's why I can't seem to focus on my writing. Maybe I just haven't met any new people that inspire me as much as those in the past. Maybe I lost my thunder, and I should just stop all together and concede the fact, that I'll never aspire to more than frivolous words, which noone cares about...
I am quite content with knowing that I'll never be as good as I want to be - in anything. Always striving for more is a curse, not a gift. It consumes you, until there's nothing left but broken dreams, which were never meant to come true. But it goes beyond dreams. It devours every single aspiration, every plan, every step. It ruins the mind, and corrupts the soul, because it was supposed to be so much more. The funny thing is, that I realise it's enough, heck, it's more than most ever get...
