It's a beautiful day to change your ways

I think it's okay to say that I don't have many words today. And that's okay, you're not always gonna have your way. Despite how bad you feel you wanna say away your thoughts today.

I won't delete these lines this time I promise. Who? I dont know but that line felt honest. And on this road of words and woes I go.

Dont stare at the sun to long or you'll go blind. Funny how so much light can compromise our eye. So we never stare, we do not dare, we wouldn't want our vision impaired. Unless the sight you saw was the only thing to ever make you care. Then how could you ever not look up there? The moon went blind just to let the sun light shine, if only I could play that role in the sky opposite of the sun is I. So I'll spend eternity reflecting off me, you. You be the sun. I'll be the moon.

Take this time to write. Before you feel the need tonight. Say what you need to make things right. Whatever it is, the thoughts in the back of your mind. Like a broken watch, just cant seem to wind, down. Silence the screams, those thoughts you think you mean, the concrete beneath your feet, stong on the surface but the bottoms cracked and flawed. Like your voice singing along to your favorite song. Oh just the thought gets you off track in fact..

So I take this time for the morning grind, unbox my mind and slowly find The words I resent but cant repress. The skeletons in the closet seem fully dressed.

I suppose the day I change is always just a day away. That the thought I'm bound to have is just a thought away. But words seem to fail me as I search for the next. The endless latter skipping step after step. But I don't regret the climb. Because each brick laid in my mind paved by time has helped define the life that's mine. So instead of reading back I plow ahead, not knowing what's to come, but knowing I will have done, whatever it is i set out to do. I'm not a writer like you. These thoughts they don't have chains. I drive myself mad cause this car never runs out of gas so instead of taking the next exit I just pass and laugh and relapse. Are your scribbled thoughts honestly worth a second thought? So far it seems these words at least were worth just that. But you seem to do this to get away. When all else has failed and you have to face yourself. You write. What does it mean. What does this desire matter. How do I harvest it and organize it in a way that I can use it to my benefit. Instead of just feeling like a lunatic why don't you try to change it. Maybe write like this. Write like you mean it. Like you care. I remember who you used to be. The same person inside of you that can endlessly type is the the same person you have been trying to kill with drugs and sex and money. All of your addictions are tied to your inability to conquer your own emotions. You hurt because you are hurting. Time to start kicking your ass and caring again. Time to start showing the world who you are again. Stop wasting your money. Your time. Your mind. Your youth. You are sick. You need to get help. And truthfully all that means is you need to start helping yourself start taking back your emotions. Start working out. Anything. Fuck man. Don't just type. Change. Grow. Inspire.

[ ] If you take all the thoughts you say at night and said them in the morning instead, maybe you would actually remember them then and not just wait till bed when you need to say them again. A thought of mine I thought one time another a similar night, trapped with my mind, sometimes a frightening time. But none the less I can't regret that the thoughts that make me change again. The words I said, and know I'll say again. This might be a bit repetitive but I think it's quite effective at helping me understand the man I think I think I am. Goodnight man

Verb Do What to? Why to? Why not? Regardless done. If done, when done. Doesn't matter where. As long as you are there. Done never ends if the doing is always being done. But then you get tired. . Doesn't matter though. Create despite mistakes. Blank again . . Back again. I have to find a way to make my hands and my mind combine to create art. Art I can thrive on. Art that matters. But then there's commitment.. That thing that seals it all.. Are you actually working? Are you really trying? Do you really care? Why don't you care? Time is leaving right now. Every letter said and read is taken away so I suppose you should make sure this one matters. Maybe not sit and write but work and move. Where did the motivation go.. I think I know.. But I'm afraid to say so.. What is the reason though? I thought I knew. The timing felt right but I know that answer won't be had tonight. So sit and write. And write. I silent self fueled fight. I want that life. But.. But what. Just do.. Nothing is getting done.. You know this. So type in silence and recognize that you are the reason why. Must be nice. I love you. But you aren't you until you do. Creation is within you. It's always been. You've always been. And always will be. So why not try.. try and succeed. You got this.