My Journal, Part 6 (2002)

Having squandered much of my life on these accursed machines,
I'm left without mem'ries: I have only dreams.
(Too many days of video games and black-and-white friends)

"Cruising though a big city in a convertible on a hot summer night."

I spent my time wanting to be something I wasn't,
I try to make my mind follow and it doesn't.
(Long have I wanted to be that guy, I just can't)

"Spinning and spinning in a hazy subconscious euphoria to the
thumping bass."

Too much wasted [o]pining,
Way too much refining.
(I have cried too much and as a result tried too much)

"Those halcyon afternoons of cool swimming pools and warm sunsets."

What have I done?
Little have I won.
(I have seen a lot, sure, but to show for it?)

"Thinking about girls, the way they smile and smell and walk and talk."

Whither do I wither?
And why the hell dither?

"The way music sounds. That perfect song. The feeling in your stomach
and heart, and you know it's just right."

Crying from happiness,
Crying from sadness.
There's no dying from happiness,
Only dying from sadness.

Explosions and delusions of rapture aren't that different, are they?
They must be.

"The pure thrill of chase."

It's time to find that fun again: it's almost springtime for me.
And then there's summer!
Another chance for "almost." Is that my middle name?
"Action must be taken."
Isn't it about time that I did something about it?
Yes, yes it is, but what to do?