I'm so tired of learning to talk, building fences on the wall

A Thank-You Note to No One in Particular:

It occurs to me that once every few years or so, on a rainy, lazy, uninteresting, afternoon, as you sit at your desk and contemplate the headstrong aroma of boredom, you generate inspiration from an array of products that flash before your eyes. Heavily decomposed, almost warhol-esque, their mere presence in that browser of yours belies the disaster your life seems to be in. You forget your pain. You immerse yourself in a World you seem to have misplaced.

To some, Art is a medium.
For me, Art opens one up and strips him to his bare essential self.

And so I thank you dear artist.
I thank you for making this day, a little more bearable than the rest.

And Now We Resume the Update on My Life:

I'd like to think that no one really knows where they're going. I'd like to imagine that we are all stuck in a vacuum that urges us to make the best of our situation, but denies us the ability to predict, prepare, or fashion the future to our liking.

Friday morning was particularly insipid.
I would say that the idea of being in their shoes one year from now, is aptly frightening. Yet, I am not quite sure of the events of this fulfilling year. Am I going to be bold, brave and ready to tackle my inapt ability to work when push comes to shove? Do my teachers see me as something worth the squeeze? Will I make it to the end where I stand and smirk at my pink sheet of paper?

I have no idea.

Just like the first droplet of rain, that hits a hard dirt patch, from an ominously cumilonimbus setting. I'd like to imagine that though I am not entirely drenched, I am on the path to fulfilling my aim. Eventually, someday, somehow, I will be able to soak through this thick uninspired desire and push myself to work.

Alas.
For now, I wait.

Alas.
Dear friend, I am scared to lose.