Lately I've been writing little rants to myself. I've got about five of them saved. I started to write them as posts, but I ended up writing too much and it got too personal. They're kinda odd to go back and read. They are comprised mostly of me yelling at myself at 2 or 3 in the morning. It builds a sort of break-down of what I hate about my life and my self. The whole thing is laced with sarcasm and lyrical references.

* * *

In the first one, I wrote a bit about how meaningless everything is. It's not the best way of looking at things, but I can't help but get that feeling at times. I usually end up laughing it off (in a sick sort of way), but this time it was a more sustained thought. I almost regret writing it all down, but it was probably a healthy thing to finally getting around to doing. I went to sleep that night with a quiet furiousness about myself and with just about everything.

* * *

The next was a few nights later. I was in a metaphory mood that night, apparently. Attatched an ongoing race with my own life. A strong start and a gradual drop in place. Eventually losing interest and just not caring. I stood still, observing all of the scenery and trying to figure out just what else is up ahead and what has been left behind.

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"I fear and love and long for the present tense."

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In another I really got pissed off at myself. I wrote this one only shortly after the first one of the night. I was still pissed. I often get angry at how somethings get left unsaid, even though there is an obvious thing to be said. An 'elephant in the room' sort of thing. Reading it back, it's like a letter or talk to a friend who is a constant burden. A final letter or a final talk. "This is the last song", I quote. Like I'm sick of trying to help them. Of course, I am on both sides of the communication, so my response to it would be...eh...there's no good way of explaining this one, other than to say that it was effective in getting me to actually do something.

* * *

So, the end result, assuming this is an end, is that I'm actually getting stuff done. Not in a major 'getting out there' kind of way, but more of a 'sitting down and getting work done' sort of way. I could actually write things down about what I've done with my day. I have, actually, just nothing I've bothered to post. Life is...different. Things like this have come and gradually gone, but this time it feels different. It occurs to me that I'm almost on to something.

* * *

"Don't let it bring you down
It's only castles burning..."

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