it seems like everything is out of my control. it seems like i'm just fading away, with no chance of leaving an imprint of change on this much-needed world. i used to think a lot; too much even. now i don't think at all, and i can never seem to find my head. i wake up standing in the middle of a room in my house, knowing i was there for a reason, but not knowing what that reason was.

and yet, i'm still trudging forward, and i can't help but feel that i'm doing this for something. for someone. for anyone, but me.

being underwater and being barely able to swim is one of those existentialist moments where i feel powerless, but the overwhelming loss of power still amazes me beyond belief.

perhaps i really am a freak; the embodiment of all that is not common, and i see everything from the outside, looking in. it's hard to guess what i really am, since i always feel the normalcy of my personality, that in fact, i am just another example of an archetypical failure. the everyday underachiever, the wasteful runt who throws away time and talent.

i'd like to believe this, anyway.

still-birth movements.