And yet it goes on

I've been meaning to write something here for a while. In fact, this is the third time I've opened this window tonight and started typing something out. But nothing worthwhile comes. I can write until my fingers fall off, but on reading back what I've written, it all seems pointless tripe. This brain can no longer function as it once did. I used to be able to call forward vivid images in the mind of my readers, tugging them with sights both strange and disturbing, and engaging them with thoughts and emotions that, for many, are completely alien to their regular routine. It was genius.

I can't even say I'm the same person anymore. Who am I? What have I become? Where did my creativity, my convictions, and my passion go? What about my plan? Did I ever really have one, or have I always known that it's pointless to prepare for disaster? Have I become so bitter that I can't look at people anymore and say, "I'd save them?" Although, looking back... it would perhaps be harder to be bitter if I wasn't so expendable to others. Have I become so detached from humanity that I'm actually expecting people to betray and subvert?

I think, in the future, I'll look back on these last couple years, and I will tell myself that this is when I was lost. When it started will be just as obscure as when it ended, but all I know is that I will think back, and the hairs on my neck will rise and my stomach will sink in unpleasantness. This is when my life lacked any kind of objective or direction, and when I lost most of what makes me myself. I've become a baser version of myself, pining for the basic stimulations that I used to get. People to talk to. Lessons to learn. A bright future waiting just over the horizon.

Although, come to think of it, my future has never been very bright. When the call comes for the masters of the world, I will have to step aside, because I am, and quite literally always will be, the master of nothing. It doesn't matter what I have, or what I know, or what I'm doing, there will always be one better, and it will always be their objective to supplant me. Such is my place in the world, and the order of life.

And so, where does that leave me? Who knows. Less importantly, who really cares?

Intentions. What are mine now?
Start simple...
Wake up tommorrow.
Go from there.