Just sitting in my bed today. Figured I could use some lazy time and save me my sanity and dough for once. I don’t know why I’d ever bother writing anymore. No one actually reads this anymore, myself included. What is there really to say? I’m back to square one, my old so-called friends have moved on, and I’m single. The pressure is off and I’ve been reduced to just living each day as it comes. There are times that it does get a bit old and that voice in the back of your head just screams to hit a blank piece of paper, but those moments come far in between now and lasts for just about a minute or two. Yes, I am sure. I am officially uninspired and uncertain if I do need help. I wish I was doing a lot more things, I mean, I know I am built for more than this and that I have been told more than once in all the various stages of my life. I wish I had the will to do what I long to do. I certainly wish for a lot of things; the desire is there but passion I lack. Maybe later, maybe tomorrow.