To whom it may concern: It is springtime and I haven't eaten a substantial meal for the past two days. My appetite likes to run away from me every now and then. I guess I don't treat it as well as I should. I am confused and mildly intoxicated by circumstances out of my control but I am happy.
I feel wildly euphoric at sporadic moments but this is not to say that I am satisfied. Being contented is a wonderful feeling but it is also one I avoid -- it pulls me into an unambitious sort of lullaby and its evanescent nature never fails to disappoint me. It flutters here and there. To anyone who know life, there can be a very unfortunate place for anything to be when you need it.
Some people peg me as a talkative person and they are rather accurate in this description but I'm not so sure they realize how much I dislike that I've come to obtain this quality. When I was a quiet person, I said only the things that were important (or at the very least, relevant.) When one becomes a talkative person, they find themselves vomiting everything unimportant in vast amountsand struggling deeply with an ability to speak on the important.
There are colors bursting and burning inside my lungs as if they're trying to escape but they get cold feet when I open my mouth. The fire goes out. Nevermind, nevermind. Don't worry about it.
The whole thing is just awkward. I want to hibernate for months in hopes of it making sense again but it's springtime and I haven't eaten a substantial meal for two days.