Unfinished thoughts

I want to be homeless. I want to love her. I'm not sure what life is. I want to be alone in the snow. I want to sleep in a field in Montana at night. Under stars, miles away from humans. I want more. I want less. My existence is ephemeral. I think I should write more to leave a legacy for when I'm gone. A legacy that no one will ever read. It might be any day. I don't like what I write. I wish I could think like Mei. New cds disappoint me. Throat's sore. Tumor is growing. That will be the end if nothing else. It's a genetic fail-safe. No one knows yet. It's okay. Frost is coming. Unpleasant but crisp it burns. Unyielding. Relentless. No mercy. I should read more. I don't have time though. I don't know how to do anything. I'm not good at anything either. It's okay. Some people are just here. Some people aren't meant to do anything. Maybe I'm filler. I think I should just drive. Quit my job, friends, and family. I might just do that someday. Start a mountain from dust. Pretty sure it's cancer. Everything's made in China. I can't be what he wants me to be. I can't be anything. I'm smooth slate somewhere in a dark cave where no man has ever been. I could be made into something someday if I was found, but I won't be. I'm just here. I'm just waiting. For it all to end. Hiding. Burrowed. Nestled deep within and within and within myself like a never-ending loop. I don't start. I don't stop.