There's not enough going on here.

So since the beginning of the summer, well June more precisely - I've been writing things down in a sort of journal... but I sort of write them in a way that I would picture them in a book or something - none of this "Dear Diary" crap.

I had always sort of realized that I kept too much locked up - my imagination running around wildly with no outlet other than my own annoyance at myself for coming up with such things. So I started writing it all down, and then it's out. And even though none of it is really good writing, it's on paper for me to read later - and it's out of my head.

So I just unloaded onto the ruled pages and it feels pretty good. Only thing is that there's some stuff I don't want out quite yet - but alas, there it is. In ink to be revisited later.

And then for some reason, I thought an excerpt would be good - but mostly it's all too embarrassing. But this one is from June-ish...
"When life becomes mundane and you're bored - your mind is susceptible to images from the past. They're called up when you cease thinking about important things: long days at work, road trips, right before sleep. You just can't help it, and you find yourself thinking about what could've been."

I'm bored too much, I think.