Strange kid

There are no surprises any more.

I normally loathe writing personal things like these. The downside to the written word is it's here forever. And in a way it's a snapshot of me. I am this, at this moment. But from the next moment on, I am this no longer.

Remember that.
Or, if you're up for a challenge, remember everything.

I've been looking for somebody. And I don't mean I've been looking for somebody. And I don't mean I've been looking for somebody.

I've just been looking for somebody, who's maybe willing to share with me a bit. Stories mostly, and maybe a little time. I've got an itch that nobody seems willing to scratch. Dating didn't itch it. Sex didn't even touch it.

It's still there, and it's driving me crazy. Slowly, deliberately, and perhaps fantastically. It's a madness where I descend further and further into a sinking holistic oneness. Where I'm just here. Just hangin' out. By myself. Everything becomes apparent, I can see where I am, and how I affect things. Or don't affect things. I become like the only tree in an endless green field, and everyone else is just blades of grass blowing in the wind.

I'm not looking down. I'm just a tree. And they're just blades of grass. I've got nothing against them, but they're nothing like me.

At times, I wonder whether I'm looking for another tree to sympathize with. Or if I'm looking for the storm that will come and topple me over, roots up at the sky, and scared shitless but completely enthralled.

Sometimes I wonder if it's even worth looking at all.