So I want to save the world. Whatever. It's not like I've made any progress. So sometimes I just stop thinking. I give up and I think, The world is full of nearly six billion people. Why the hell am I the only one who can save the world? Let somebody else get off their lazy ass and do it. And then I feel bad. Then I feel worse so I put on my headphones and blast music until I can't hear the rest of the world and my thoughts pool into a jumbled mess that I can't follow. Or I get under my covers and watch Gossip Girl. Either way it's escape. Sometimes I wish my life were a story I was writing, and I could erase myself and plunk myself down a few chapters from now. Create some drama, some suspense, some life. I sit and daydream sometimes about all the different ways my life could go and it makes me wonder, how did I get here?
How do any of us get where we are, really? We're all walking around in a haze, and I am coming out of stupor. I am coming out of stupor, but all I want is to go back to sleep. When it comes to realization and oblivion one will always choose the latter.
But me, I have chosen neither. I am in an inscrutable shade of gray... I am on the path that takes you from nowhere to somewhere but I've stopped walking and now I don't know which path leads where anymore.