Losing Grip: Falling Into the Status Quo

I feel old today.

It is as if my skin were rippled and translucent and my vague eyes buried in layers. But, more defined than appearance, I feel old. I am tired, solemn, and vacant. Color, which is ordinarily life, bombards my senses. Tonight I desire a life of creamy, soft tones. This is most unusual.

One thing I lack in this age is wisdom. Rather, I am completely unable to think. I sat in the cold, brown yard sucking nicotine that made me breathe too fast, all the while thinking about how stupid I was being. And yet I went in for another. It was as though my mind and body were disconnected and I might as well have been sawing off my hand. I draw the line here. I have to stop before I lose the ability to.

It is not only that. When I am bestowed time for life, I do what? Squander it before a screen. Why is it that I only understand part of the time? I need to be clutching onto my individuality and pouring my every emotion and bit of energy into sculpting. It is through my art that I will not fall. Proof of this: I am on the computer instead of sculpting

and I am falling.