Comes and goes, and comes and goes and no-one cares.

John Mayer croons, my hungover head flattens itself out. I want to say I have a lot on my mind, but my choice of escaping behind the garb of a quarter life crisis is working pretty well, so far.

I may come back to this blog many years later to re-read different phases of my life, all of which have been described beautifully, and I'm not even being full of it.

This phase, though. Ugh. I can't find myself to be elusive. Or cryptically analytical in this charming way that I seemed to have mastered many years ago.

Is it all falling apart to form new things, I wonder?

When "where am I headed?" isn't the impending question. It's more on the lines of, "What the fuck?"

Only this time, I think I've finally learned how to not give a shit. It may suck my writing prowess, but meh.