The agony of the static undercurrents of confusion.

It is scary when you are on the cross roads of an ethical dilemma that doubles up with a career quandary. I have imagined things, run them over my head about a million times and yet when it comes to turning those mirrors of my picturesque imagination my actions run havoc. It seems to curl inwardly, suggesting a somewhat deeper and complex undertone when in reality it is nothing but the basic nature of my feeble and fickle mind. Alliteration yes, I would indulge in it if need be. I would run round and round from pillar to post even when I don’t really have to. This is my destiny as I see it from my vantage point of observation. This is my fate from where I cast them in stone.

I consider this a phase when it is really anything but. This, my dear friends is a really lousy excuse for the static poise of inactivity. I have never gambled with anything and it makes me sad to know this truth and realize that I may never be able to even. Without running into the trouble of taking a measured yet dangerous direction I mis-step time and again. It all ends up being an educative and theoretical exercise. The demons of ineptitude has never left me even though the raw materials have diminished in its supply.

Why does the fickle mind dream? If you could remote access my brains I would happily grant you the admin permission to do so. You would be in a much better position to understand the roundabouts that lie embroidered into this pathetic mind-scape. I try hard, harder still. The more I dive in the more I go up. When does it all end I ask?


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