Soft Whisps Floating Slowly.

If I could envision all the things I need to be, if I could put them together in a cohesive manner, perhaps I could fashion myself a life- or at least the sembalance of one. If I could step back from my Piscean sun and moon, if I was not so disinclined to make ordinary attachments, perhaps then I could find some equillibrium, some sense of balance. But, I am spinning myself a web of confusion; I am trying to twist myself around a great concern and equally a dissolving responsibility.

Everything swims, a blurry haze in my vision. Everything swirls in and out of itself like light clouds wafting, their soft whisps floating slowly and pressing against each other. I have trapped myself beneath the shiny skin of things past and the icy air of the inevitable future. I may just fall forward into the easiest solution; I may just run from it all and into the open arms of good book. Really, it's not all that dramatic. I am only dramatizing the things I am unsure of. I am only trying to stay above the surface of my emotions, to paddle through them, to wade assuredly no matter what.