Still going to try

This blog used to mean so much to me. It was art and feeling and beauty and so much. I just looked at what is has become and I'm not proud. 

There will be direct ('direst ice' ... The auto correct for my shit speling ((please contunie reading for further explanation))) changes in the coming month, for I want to remember the good old days of actually writing creatively. Unfortunately, the reason I stopped writing was that I lost my dear computer. Hurdels are there for a reason. I'm not even 25% sure on how to spell check on my current device, thus I may get utterly frustrated and quit. 

Typing on a screen is not ideal. 

Why are typewriters so lovely, yet so fucking heavy!!??

Try, try, and just fucking do it.

It's the 3rd of November in New Zealand. 11 days before I turn 29. I'm listening to Jaill. Ass naked, dripping wet. Lonely but never alone. In a bed that's not mine, in a country that's not mine, yet, in a world that seems perfectly fit for me right now. Crazy about someone that surely dosen't know it; crazy for anyone that ignores me. Wrapped up in ideas of a fruitful future. Always thinking of ways to leave. Always thinking of being in love with the moment, yet running away as fast as I can; thinking of the past before it ever happens; imagining the future that will never be. 

However, there is this very strange feeling in me. I want to stay here. I want a pattern. For once. I want to just focus on not fleeting. Or maybe, maybe I actually have a clear focus on how to be successful at continuously fleeting.To keep leaving everything behind withouth losing everything. To run, but to never lose my breath. To love, but to never feel lose. 

Is this growing old? Is this wisdom? 

Or is this losing your mind?