finding direction is so fucking hard.

you think to yourself, i’m going to sit down, maybe drink some tea, listen to some good music, and try to think of something inspiring, that shit doesn’t work.

you take a drive, ride your bike, walk, somewhere, anywhere, hoping and praying something crazy hits you; let’s say it does, let’s say you decide you’re going to be the best writer in the world, you’re going to write about gnarly shit that you’ve done, it’ll be different, everyone will love it, you’ll be internet famous, someone will pay you money to do whatever the fuck you want, you’ll get shit for free, yes, the good life. you get home, open up your laptop, open up a word document, hell yea. it begins, it’s time. your great ideas will begin flowing, you can feel it, 5 minutes later, you’re on tumblr, 10 minutes after, you’re on the yahoo! homepage, 30 minutes past, you’re checking on your friend’s page on facebook, refreshing, hope the little notification button will show a tiny red number, a signifier that people actually give a shit about you, nothing happens, an hour passes, your word document is still empty, you forget about your dreams, you go lay in bed, put on the new grizzly bear record, close your eyes, you don’t fall asleep, you just lay there in your complete uselessness, defeated by your own incapacity to actually attempt to begin navigating your road to potential non-monotonousness. nothing’s changed, you feel the same, you no longer see shining lights in your future. you try to take your mind off it, it’s over now. you’ll do this again next week.