So what's it feel like to be a ghost...

“She said "everybody loves you,
"She says, "everybody cares"
But all the things I keep inside myself
They vanish in the air”



I woke up this morning and tried to write a bit and was dissatisfied by everything I penned. My blog is one of feast or famine. No posts or a large number of them. This is due to a lot of things, busy schedule, lack of an internet connection, but mostly it is just a steady fading of my ability to write (especially humorous writings). There was a time several years ago where I would have filled with stories and lists all which would have been hilarious, at least to myself. I don’t know what happened to that part of myself but it slipped away. I liked and valued that ability and it always is strange when we lose the things that we once used in part to define ourselves. I am now almost entirely dependant on being in the right mood for writing as to keep my ramblings from sounding contrived. That was partially why I never kept a steady journal, despite various people suggesting I should.
I have always been unremarkable easily overlooked. I would define myself as an acquired taste. I often feel invisible, but sometimes I can’t help but wonder if there was a time I had more substance than this.


We realize what’s become of us while the snow falls outside and we watch out the windows while cleaning the kitchen as the neighbors and children grab sleds and walk to the nearest hill.