I’m so fed up of this reality. I really am. Sometimes I’m not. But right now I absolutely am.

Literally what is my motivation anymore. Right now, I don’t know.

Money doesn’t motivate me, not particularly.

I’m thinking about money more than I used to though.

Properly having my independence (again) is a motivation.

As is doing something meaningful.

And helping people.

Plus, doing something cool.

Maybe it’s status that I want, I don’t know.

Perhaps I have it, to an extent.

I’m glad to be this arty.

But I have this world.

I’m a secret blogger.

Sorta.

Or a website owner.

Kinda.

Or a creator, ‘writer’, ‘poet’, song writer for songs that don’t have a chorus or music to go with them etc.

Yes & no.

I’m doing some drawing again, or doodling.

A bit of ‘photography’ too.

It’s not like I’m trying to get anywhere with it, I do it for a laugh, I’m just getting by.

I’m all of those or I do those things & I’m none of those things or I don’t do any of those things at the same time.

But I’m doing things my way.

I don’t know.

Underrated words in society those.

I’ll feel better later on.

I just feel like I’m just in the background sometimes though.

Or a weirdo trying to be less weird.

Being real doesn’t necessarily always get you somewhere.

Sometimes it’s better to be unreal.

Or a bit of both.

But I don’t know.

Sometimes I feel cool and very much part of things.

I definitely do.

At times that is.

I’ve just had enough.

This fantasy world is well better.

Fantasy & reality are crossing over anyway.

This is like a real fantasy world.

And a fantasy real world.

Some people just don’t get it.

But there we are.

What am I writing here.

I don’t even know.

I’ll have perspective again soon.

Maybe I need less of it though.

Being annoyed can be fuel to drive you.

I know I have lots going for me.

Fed up of saying that though.

I want to cash in to get my rewards.

In reality too.

Maybe in fantasy too.

I can’t see the woods from the trees again.

Here.

This might help.

Yeah, now I can see the woods from the trees.

I don’t want to be such a grump.

I’m mostly not.

But when am I getting mine.

I’m putting loads in.

Sometimes I feel useless.

Sometimes I feel talented.

Sometimes I feel like a joke.

Sometimes I feel clever.

Sometimes I feel more like a blagger, than a ‘blogger’.

A bit of an editor too, funnily enough, you don’t have to be a horse to be a jockey & all that.

Sometimes I feel rebellious, cool & free.

Sometimes I feel stupid.

Sometimes I feel…I don’t know what.

Sometimes you just have to let off some steam.

Cheaply, sorta yes, kinda no.

Somehow.

Somewhere.

Some way.