Gasp, nearly three weeks since my last post.
Totally unacceptable. Yet, I can't say I've had an overwhelming inclination to write something. Not so much a writer's block as well. Uninspired would be a tad more accurate. Have just been unable to get myself onto Blogspot and spurt out a few words.
So-so; that's how I'd describe things currently. Things inside me, things around me, things. Go with the flow, and such inane, corny cliches. After all, what's new, pussycat? Eh?
Still unsure where I'm heading with all this, or where I want to head. I'm just strolling along, checking out the rare fancies that catch my eye. Nothing substantial in that. But it's helping me move on, so that can't be that bad.
Unfortunately, I really can't find the old me. I think it's dead and gone. Okay, I had to slip that in. But in all seriousness (if one can even be serious about such things), I've 'misplaced' my comfy old persona. More like I killed it, and I'm now regretting it. It's funny how you try so hard to suppress something, only to realise how much you actually need it, and then find that it's gone. Out of the park, far far away. Yeah, something like that.
But never one to pine for what's done and dusted (yeah, right), I'm carrying on with this new, not-so-nice me. As long as I get through the days not contemplating what ifs and permutations in my thick skull, I'm happy.
Though I get this sneaky feeling, not for long. Being happy, that is.
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