Where’s the inspiration? I used to go out and shoot photos and write stories and poems. Now I don’t have any of that. I don’t know if I’m desensitizing myself the more I get into college or what. I don’t know if some of the changes that have happened to me since college are smothering my softer side or not.

I’m in a rut. I go through the week as I did the week before and the week before that. I go to classes and then waste the rest of my day. I have no desire to do anything else. Every now and then a good idea for a poem will pop up, but then promptly fade away. My lack of focus is startling. Writing this is way too much work.

I feel in constant conflict. I only see things in black in white it seems. Either my friends think I’m the best thing ever or they hate me. I have a hard time reading the gray areas.

I feel like everyone is mad at me or out to get me for no reason. It scares me, but at the same time I almost feel as I deserve it.

I have such extreme ups and downs. It only takes a certain look from a friend or a comment and the amazing day I’ve been having has just evaporated into thin air.

My self esteem has left me completely.

My unique fun self is disappearing in a wash of conformity. I conform to make more friends, only to find that people don’t like the conformed me, yet I am having a hard time going back, I don’t know if I even can go back.

The things that make me who I am are slowly eroding away and it’s only so long before I’m just another face in the crowd.

My story will be birth, school, career, family, death

Notice there isn’t any life in that story which is the tragedy of it all

I want to live life, I want to enjoy life, but something is there holding me back…

Weak

My camera bag lies under the bed
From when I was going to be an artist
And known by people everywhere

My bible sits on my desk
A remnant from when I was going to find God
But the path is long abandoned and dust gathers

I look around and see myself surrounded
Surrounded by the things I should have been

The weight machine looms in the corner
Back when I wanted to be strong
Now it just stands as if to mock me

I should have been strong
In body and soul

I should have reached for all I could
To show the world what I can do

But I am weak
I am tired
I am alone