A letter to myself.

Hey there old friend.

It's been a while since I have talked to you. However, the change may have been the right thing to do. I spend my time stressing out about paying the bills and getting my homework done rather detiriorating my brain with the mind taking me to the realization of the tragic lack of attainability of world peace; or why we are paying people to save our lives or how money has destroyed us. I hate that guy.

I must admit, however, I feel the sudden impulse to write about my feeling on these issues and the other things that make me a bitter man. However, I'm truly certain that I must write about this happiness that I am feeling... or the illusion of happiness that I am feeling (with respect). Maybe I am just really, honestly, truly happy, but I feel like I will never be able to truly bounce back to the way it was. I sometimes spend nights thinking about how great life would be with the confidence I had as a child. The past few years have tested my limits. The realizations and the unfortunate situations and circumstance. The whole period of time just feels like one, extremely long and painful nightmare. It often makes me wonder if that is who I truly am, but I remain passionate for my attempt at becoming a better person. But I know it is difficult while having that obnoxious suspicion that I am truly no one. The lyrics of Bright Eyes tells me that I should be looking at this situation optimistically, but I find it a more arduous task that an optimist would know. It may be impossible to regain control when the world is spinning out of control with you. I'm probably just being cynical. One thing is certain: I continue to long for something better. Somewhere warmer than the place that I am now. It gives me hope and without hope, I no longer hope to exist.

Honest to the best of my ability,
That man in your mind that will always give you someone to talk to.