I was getting worried that I'd never write again, but just a few days before, I got out three poems in one day. That's the only second time I've ever done that, so far. The last time was when I wrote "Firedust" and "Autumn Light", which are my favourites. This time my poems were pathetically mediocre. "Lie" and "Oneiros (dream)" and "Something Happy". Ironically, not a very happy poem, but then you expected that.

I could say that I'm just not in the mood, but then what am I writing for? To prove something to myself, or to you? Who are you anyway?

I was just reading a couple of people's blogs as well as some poems by my e-mail writing group and there's a whole bunch of stuff on unrequited love, or love, or "You-hate-me-but-I'll-love-you-anyway" love (a rather popular theme), and I can't quite say I can connect to all that. I like angst, but when it's about love, I'm quite out of it all, you know? But I was reading these two blogs of guys I sort of know and I really admire their devotion to their girlfriends, even though they've broken up. Unlike a lot of stuff I see, there's nothing immature about it all. They really loved them. I admire strength of devotion in men, especially after having stereotyped them as heartless/ faithless or simply less emotional. That's why I like books like Jane Eyre.

It all makes me stop and reflect on myself. The business I started... I really should stop it. I really should. I just don't want to admit that I'm losing control, and yet by saying this, I'm admitting it already. Still, sometimes I really hate having to be so bloody rational. It seems that I always have to stop, check my position, North South East West, see where I'm going and where my life is headed... after a while, does it even matter?

How old will I be before I can finally stop caring?