Faintest blog keeps falling, falling...

Sometimes, I don't really feel like I know the person that I'm becoming. He's not someone that I'm familiar with. I don't know him yet, I've never met him. But more than that, I can't really get a read on him. I can't sense what he's going to be like. I feel different. I feel changed. I don't know who I am anymore.

My head is a mess. I can't sort anything out anymore. Anything now seems like an incredibly daunting task, no matter how slight the responsibility may be in reality.

I throw up my hands. When will this end? When can I laugh again? When can I be carefree again?

Well, to be exact, probably not until May 15th, after the first big section of the Janet Drive tour.

But such specifics only serve to ruin the perfect abstractness of my despair! My heady melancholy has become a sort of pet for me, I suppose. There is some small joy in wallowing. In feeling sorry for one's self. Yes. I need that.

SO...Self...This one's for you.

Self...I'm sorry.

I'm sorry for you, self.

I apologize.

What am I talking about?

I started out saying something.

But now I'm not saying anything.

Did I ever say anything?

No, I don't think so.

Ever?

No, not ever. Not really.

I'm really confused.

Wait.

Forget it.

Nevermind.