times like these are ones where you feel like pulling your hair out, root to tip at one go. it doesnt matter that i'm making more friends then i have made in ages, neither that i'm having more fun now then ever. the crazy thing is my mind floats from image to image, trivialty to trivialty without so much as a batter of an eye lid. It just all collapses into a mundane pile of bullshit and lies. not even a cute guy or a mad drunk dazzles me anymore in all their sparkly newness. For now, i remain a-sexual. Feeling nothing special, bitter after taste of all the blandness i place upon myself.

Maybe this is the feeling of coming of age. and. it sucks.

No urge.
No feel.
No need.
No want.
No desire.
Just plain comfort stuck out here in limbo.
Just damn plain comfort.