Where is it that I go when I'm not awake?

Sometimes I feel like that world bleeds into mine when I'm driving home at night and the trees and shadows all have faces that I've made for them.

I don't know how I feel about most things in a normal every day life-like situation, which is probably why I find myself attached so readily to the completely fabricated realities and ideas. Better to put a sword in my hand and unveil the concept of time travel than have me give advice about anything with human interaction. Not that I'm socially awkward, mind you, just that I'd rather be doing something worth talking about than explaining reasonable things to a person that won't listen anyway.

I don't know what sense I'm trying to make. I'm too tired and wanted to sound profound.

Why is it that a can't help myself with a pretty face? Especially when they have more than a few clever words?

My blood is boiling from a fever that never seems to break. I'm too excited from my own good. I'm too interested for my own good. Too god damn old to think like a 17-year-old, feeling with my crappy instincts instead of using my head to shun these types of things.

But maybe that's what I'm built for, search and find and experience the good, bad and extremely mundane in between. It's the little things that keep stacking up and up that make me stupid. And believe me, it's coming down to me being stupid and naive long after I should be.

I think I find one of the most random things I miss the most are the black horizons of the beaches in Mount Pleasant. After the sun's gone down and the endless ocean stretches out beyond what I could conceive as vast, it all turns pitch black with no variations or compass to 5 inches from your face to 500 miles. It's truly staring into an abyss of nothing, with only distant stars to set apart the sky from the sand and horseshoe crab husks lying at your feet. Here, inland, there's always the dark grey sky set against the black outline of trees or hills or houses, all of which seem far enough away not to touch, but close enough to reach out and almost be there. It's all attainable and nothing to dream about.

I miss the vast nothing shrouded in mystery and fear and unknowing peril. I want to fall into it and feel my stomach clench when I don't know how I'll make it out alive.

And I also miss the company that brought me back to the world I'd known when the big black threatened to swallow me up with one little gulp.

It was the last time I felt I was where I belonged and I truly don't know why.

Driving home in the middle of the night, I always have these aspirations about writing some self evolving piece as soon as I get home because somehow, sobering up and making the drive from Louisville feels like I'm traversing some self awareness vastness and unlocking some serious secrets. But when I get home and undress an crawl into a cold bed, it all scatters from my brain like a breeze clearing out cluttered brown leaves... Then I think, maybe next time...

My life is full of next times.

Seems like someone could work up a powerful loneliness in the great big empty.

I've got problems. Remind me to tell you about them when I'm not drunk in my bed at 5:18 in the morning.

It's not that putting positive energy out into the world reaps good things. One who focuses on the positive has an optimistic outlook and it's this filter that blinds a person from the negative. There is also the flip side to that, in which negative begets negative.

Me, I'm the kind of person who notices the shit storm before it comes and the bright shining sun that comes out afterward. But I like it best when it's only dark at the corners.

Sex is such a weird thing. The act itself as a form of expression or a means to an end. It's just this complicated, weird thing. But so is everything when you look too closely at it.

You know what's a good thing to do after you've had two amazing weekends and great time with long distant friends. Spend time looking up exes and feeling strangely sad about being out of their life, but not pitifully lonely. It's a hard explanation to get out, but I feel like a ghost out of time.