Lateral

What a relapse.

I need a outlet that I'm actually going to stick to.

Because nobody really reads this, I feel comfortable exposing my soul for a couple of minutes. It's something I don't usually do and I've considered buying a journal for that exact reason but the truth is I can't afford a journal. I can't afford fucking anything...

There is a definate void in my life.

I need to start creating things that people can genuinely care about.

In the shower today, I thought about the band. As a kid, when we sucked and could only play a few songs, I kind of assumed that eventually, with time, we would be huge. Then I suppose when I got a bit older, fame was less important, it was just a word, which was reassuring. There's a couple of moments I remember that epitomize why I wanted to play music. One of them was playing to a big crowd and looking down from the stage over the barrier to see a girl mouthing out the lyrics that I wrote with my friend in his bedroom. As we sang them, she sang them too. It doesn't seem like much, but these were words that this girl remembered enough to be able to sing them back to us. Hell, I bet she still knows them... I wrote those words. Maybe they meant something to her. Why would she have heard my song enough times to know the words anyway?

I used to write stories to girls that I liked. There was one girl, her mother was a pop star in the 70s, I wrote her so many stories because she was so beautiful and perfect. When I bumped into her a few months ago, she remebered them and I really wanted to tell her why I kept on ridiculously writing these damn things. I guess stories alone weren't enough to get this girl to like me. She was an artist, I should have written her songs instead.

At night time, I think about comic books and digital music. Secret societies and other bright ideas.

For my last birthday, I bought myself a book of simplified anatomy so I could be a comic book artist. I'd been reading lots of things by Mike Mignola and Gabriel Ba, which was so completely captivating that I had to put my own stories into the same medium. I must have looked at the book 4 or 5 times.

Back when I had money, I spent a fortune on music production software and different types of synths and midi pads and effects processors so that I could start my solo project with everything I needed. I haven't started a single track in over a year.

Last year, about this time, I wrote a novel. Now it's stuck on PC in the boot of my car where I won't ever be able to access it. The subject matter is beautiful if poorly executed, but it was my first real novel. I want to do it again this year but I've made a ridiculous career choice which will consume all my time for the next three years and then dictate the rest of my life down a very narrow path.

Why have I spent thousands of pounds on a diploma in therapy when I just don't care about people?

I've convinced myself that I can just learn of this and then just play the part. These won't by counselling lessons, they'll be acting lessons. Then when I get my diploma, I can just get into character. How different could it be from my every day life? At least I'll be helping people... probably myself too. I'm certain it will be good for me somehow.

Man, it's late. But this is about 50% of what's plaguing me at the moment, which is enough. It helps to write it down. It gives me solitude... or fortitude. I'm getting stupider as I get older and I use the wrong words for things from time to time. But what I mean is that writing all of this down makes me feel like maybe tomorrow I'll actually write a song.

Hey look at the time... One minute past midnight. Today is brand new day.