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The Ever Expanding Bubble

watch your head, it might just pop altogether.

16 November
The ride just got more interesting, so I'm inviting a few others along. If anything, this place will be dripping with sentiment and vain attempts at poetry in a few weeks. I've discovered Frost, Whitman, and the rest of the literary world, (after having the books gather dust on my shelves for nearly two years, mind you) and will embark on a revamping of the mind, one that has spurred me into quasi isolation. The details of who I am are irrelevant. I am just like you, which makes the journey all the more significant to the world outside of my ever expanding bubble. I don't claim to be anything more than a germ on a vast, decaying piece of meat, a thistle in a field of many, head bobbing limply in submission to the converged whims of the winds and weather. Still, to taste that wind, and to feel the sun, for once, instead of blocking it out and burrowing deeper into the earth, I would spend a life time of trial and error. For once, I'm not going into this with the intention of creating osmething beautiful. This is a search for the self, and I am unafraid of the cliche. Thank god it hit me before thirty. (Needless to say, yet here I go, I have cancelled my cable subscription. I advise anyone with half a mind to have a mind to do the same.)