i suppose i'm doing alright. i do my best to find inspiration to write, and evaluate my current state of mind, but at times i feel i'm on autopilot. i look up, and suddenly it's 5 hours later than i last recalled. i know how melancholy this sounds, but i think it's because this is a rare time in my life where i'm neither relentlessly sad, or intensely happy. being content is a strange stage in life for me. it's the welcome reprieve, but it also causes writers block. i lose inspiration to write because i'm neither overflowing with joy, or being consumed by pain. i'm just quietly, happily content. life just seems to be going on around me this month and days pass so quickly now. now that i have my own home, i always seem to have something to do, create, explore, or clean. i have errands to run and a lover that i kiss goodbye far too often. everyday i've done something that's made me happy, even if it's small. i've sat out on the balcony, watched foreign films, made snowcones, and began planting a small herb garden.

i've just been lacking stunning, colorful, important things to say.

i was spacing out (as i seem to do various times throughout the day) and i came to the realization that any problems or complications in my life are caused by others. that sounds pretentious and delusional, i'm sure. but if i think of times where i struggle, or have doubts, it is purely influenced by the actions of someone else. someone else making me feel inferior, burdening me with their problems, someone manipulating, mistreating, misguiding me. alone, i am strong and productive, seemingly free of personal struggles. i fall victim to the hidden agenda of others.

some of my best days are spent eating ice cream on the couch, driving with the sun in my eyes, or just playing video games! at times i'm thankful when the phone doesn't ring.