Lackings

It is so simple yet complicated to escape from oneself. So easy on some occasions, and brutally difficult on others. Yet I find that as I type this, I too am finding a small sense of escape. I would like to write about how a group of robed, hooded figures brought forth a chalice for me, and upon the intake of it's liquid I feel my inner being twist and turn at the corruption. Upon more consumption of this liquid the figures would reveal themselves wearing masks of my face.However, I seem to be lacking in the mood as well as the inspiration. Instead, I sit here and type a rambling of what I'd like to do.

I'd like to have actual stability in my life. To have a stable job (or a job in general for that matter), a stable home to sleep in, a stable relationship that isn't littered with eggshells. I am not just talking about intimacy.

I would like to be rid of this cursed desert, to have a change of environment, so that I may feel free and not caged by the woes and worries of people who cannot take care of themselves.

I would like to be able to tolerate my very presence. I would like to be able to tolerate silence, where my own thoughts would not cause me to seek a noise maker of any kind to muffle them.

I would like, put simply, a new life.

But what good is it to want and like? Absolutely nothing. It would get you nowhere. So instead I spend a night sitting here, wishing upon an immature, childish star. I refuse to even acknowledge hope, since nothing prosperous has ever come out of it.

Most of all, however, I would like a reason to wake up, as well as to sleep.