avoiding the pen like a plague, i've been running. afraid that when i pick it back up, it'll be all dried out and useless. i feel a little cheated and i don't know why.. the cold glow of hospital lights can turn a shadow into a wall; something i can't get past. you can't stop what's coming, neither can i. i think perspective could be another word for that belief.. perspective could be defined as the way you view something. but at what point does something stop being just a perspective? at that point, does it become the past just because it's inevitable? or is there something between the two? is perspective unique to the eye of the beholder, or is it universal? regardless, it's something i don't have much of anymore. i can't see past the next mile marker, and i won't pretend to anymore. it's hard to keep up when you're keepin' on, and my lady of the highway is strong. too strong, perhaps..
i don't know much of anything anymore. if i could just empty this cup.. you know i would if i could. if i only knew how..
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