The Beginning After An End

I was so caught up chasing pavements, I've passed you by a million times before. But you never gave up on me, now I know where I belong.

The Distant Best

I ended up pouring my heart out to a stranger down the street, because it was you I needed, and it was you I couldn't reach.

Inane This Is Not

I miss the person I was, who could write endlessly, even on things that could be so mundane. Things have turned mechanic, all we've been doing is memorize, memorize, memorize. I rarely have time to FEEL and when I do, things get nasty - too emotional for my sake. I've been loving what I am doing, but writing has always been a part of me. Should I be blaming someone or something? Or maybe it was just me; or maybe it was me and everything else around me. Maybe. I've acquired a lot of knowledge on science and technical stuff. But I don't want to lose my heart. I just want to be able to write again.

Clearly, I am lost.