Injured squared

if only it were that easy.
to drift effortlessly away into the nothingness that ive become.
forgotten and alone i sit wishing for my old identity.
what is it about a career that defines who we are? why doesnt anyone remember me?
i made that life my life and then one day my life ended.

and i havent been able to get it back.

i found something else.
something old and familiar and easy
easier than cake and much more stale.
i crave a new flavor and something with frosting.
but everything makes me yawn.
and everything hurts.

i feel like ive been murdered. and i keep reliving my death.
maybe i killed myself?

thinking about writing... again

I have moments.
Moments of inspiration come suddenly. i'm rarely thinking its worthy of anyones time.

school is taking up so much. and it is really all i have right now. i keep taking these stupid jobs that get me by for a few months and then i go away. No one calls no one answers emails when i try to reach out.

i ramble
that is why i keep waiting for the inspiration to come.

but my paintings are going well...

i wish i had a real job or an identity.