I’ve been really terrible lately about documenting my life, but I guess one could say that not much has been going on. I am not settled into a routine on a weekly basis, and I think that this has somehow brought some peace and stability to my life. It hasn’t completely given me peace for the simple fact that I still get depressed from time to time, but those feelings arise from my longings to have a better life. I can’t really complain much about my life though, because I honestly feel that I have a lot to be grateful for. The problem is that I am always focusing on the things that I don’t have…and this is why I get upset.

But the fact of the matter is (and I can notice how scattered my writing style has become, much like the way my thought process has been evolving into the past year or so) that I don’t document anything anymore because nobody is going to read it; nobody is going to care. Why bother? I still feel that I would be throwing away a great gift and talent that I have put into existence the last 10 years. Maybe I don’t have to write for anyone, maybe I just have to write for myself. At the same time, I want to share my thoughts and more so writing style with others. But really, people don’t have time for activities such as these anymore. Or is that what we are lead to believe? I have yet to take a look and read back entries from 2011 and 2012. I feel that those were my prime years of exquisite writings that I put on this page. However, most of them, because of their dark and twisted nature, are private entries that I would not be willing to share with the world, nor would I feel comfortable doing so. This is such a pity because in all fairness, and this is coming from my perspective of self worth, they are truly whimsical pieces that offer a deep look into my mind. However, I really can’t risk what may come of it, if anything, should I make them public. And besides, I don’t think they would be all that visible anyway.

All there is to mention at the present moment is that I am trying, day by day, to save enough to eventually leave next year if I am lucky enough to find a job that I can utilize to support myself and continue to move forward with the things that I wish to do. Still, I become desperate sometimes and run out of patience. This is usually when the feelings of depression come along.
But in all fairness, I really would like to share these entries with someone. It’s not as if someone is even going to read them when I die. Nobody knows that this blog exists, and because I am gay and don’t want any children, nobody is going to know about this after I pass. Yes, maybe it could be found on a google search…but what are the odds that somebody is going to search for the particular subjects or tags that I write about? I don’t think this is something that I should worry about…but it does bother me emotionally because I love writing. I could write every day…but the problem is that I am not sure what to write about. Everything has been said a thousand times, over and over. And a summary of my every day week would only bore people to death…although I do have some interesting stories from my job. Still, I can’t help but to feel that I should not waste my writing abilities on describing meaningless day to day activities. Maybe I could focus on my thoughts instead, but even that is something that is shadowed by my attempts of trying to balance my work and life balance. I will try my best to think of something to blog about on a weekly basis, at least.

Until next time, I suppose.