Days pass colorless between intentional mistakes and unintentional cruelty. I lie awake at night thinking of the portrait of my soul - is it too late? Soon, things will change, and I would like to be remembered as someone kind.
I dream about you very often, now that I don't speak to you about things that don't matter, my soul reaches out for you. You have done spectacularly well for yourself, I admire that. I know now that I shouldn't have bothered with technicalities. I want to speak close to your face again. Your darkest hour is over, for now, and you know what, although you might not think it, you shone right through it too.
I have little time left before things around me fall apart. I see it, everyone drifting away, getting their act together, planning their future, creating. And I feel I need a major push to get going, because the crossroads are close and my direction undefined. I want to pursue... art? I dunno. I want to try pursuing art.
But most of all, I want to do something that makes a difference. I want to improve my life in many areas. But I still can't muster the strength to clean up after me properly. Old people struggle to walk half a mile - and I am young and perfectly capable (to be incapable).
