Not much.

Just things.

I spent so much time trying to be a 'good' person that I was inadvertently causing more bad than I would if I didn't care.

I have trouble stopping myself from thinking some days and it makes me crazy but despite all of that I still can't sit down and write something that is remotely worthwhile.

I think creativity directly relates to the amount of sadness in your life. That must be a nasty trick of nature.

When the warm nights come back I'm going to stargaze from my front lawn and make sure to sleep with my windows open.

I alternate between complete apathy and insane emotional states and I don't know if that's me being a crazy person or just normality and I guess I don't mind but sometimes it would be nice to have more of a control over what I outwardly express. I know, it's a bit of a cop out.

I like being busy and I hate it maybe even more. Having some trivial task to do makes me feel like I have purpose but I think that maybe purpose should exist solely in existence.

I think I'd like a plant for my room because apparently plants are good to have around but it would make me really sad if it died.

I don't think I'm very reliable but I am almost always on time.

Love, Morgs.