So it's 2am and i'm sitting here absolutely ready to write my heart out. I can't quite point out what exactly it is that triggered this sudden outburst and primal desire to let it all out, but the urge is very real indeed.
Perhaps it was the melancholic feeling that accompanied every compulsory yearly clean-up of my room. A few scattered polaroids later, and i'm booting up Blitzen Trapper on my media player.
In a few days it will be exactly one year since my last birthday. This is the part where i write about how things have been in the past year, and how you never know what the future brings, blah, blah blah.
Except i'm not going to.
You see, the last year has been absolute shit. None of that intangible, it-depends-on-your-perspective nonsense either: it's been undeniably awful the past 12 months of so. And there is no end of the tunnel optimism accompanying this analysis. The road ahead looks absolutely bleak and distant.
They say keep your eye on the prize, but what if you're unsure of what exactly you are going through the motions for?
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