Today I saw something so incredibly real. I wanted to be real, too. Not just theoretical. And I want to be real in a great way. Ever get the feeling that you want so much for yourself, and you're reaching, in theory, far, to grab what lies ahead, but all you get is a fluff of air that escapes your fist, ever so fucking evasive, so delicate, you must always strike a balance. Even randomness is difficult to achieve; it would be silly to assume an organized goal to necessitate any less effort. Or, I wonder. Is my head in the clouds? I think my father is a tad frustrated with my lack of real thought. Mother wants me to dream on, I think. I'm right there with you.

As for now, I'd like to see more and feel more and think more. Do more, too, eventually. But I need time to plan things out. I need to know exactly what I'm getting myself into before my feet are in the waters. Also, writing this, I realize I'm a terrible teller. Open up my head and look at what I'm thinking, everyone! Listen in on my thoughts, because I can't  explain. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Guichanaso.