Waiting for the miracle

So many nights have passed just staring at the blog-screen waiting for the miracle to come . It annoys the life out of me that once upon a time the writing came ...you know just like that. Snap! and I had something written down. The past year has been spent in paralysis. I've written loads...pages and pages to just delete it at the end. When exactly did I become so critical of my writing?
A rant feels stale, an opinion feels re-run, rehashed, a music recommendation is well...you know check it out on NME why here?. As the blog shows you...page after page, it was an extremely cringe worthy excersise in battling depression. But I've been depression free for I don't know two years now and maybe I'm not depression free just in a state of limbo, floating around just above the ground. Waiting to hit the ground hard, just waiting, the fall will come, impact and stuff and we will bleed over the cold hard ground but for now the float rocks my boat (haha?).

The who turning 30 thing was a revelation as I'm sure it has been for many a person who's reading this. The dreams (and oh boy did we dream!) vanish, you wake up, get dressed all the while your fucking tragic going nowhere - just another commuter with fancy cologne- I cooked prawns last night- watched another oscar nominated film-updated facebook status (not smart this time) - I mean fuck it. Really. see how easy it is to fall into a rant to avoid the shit. (The shit: Have nothing to say and whine to pass the time)

So turning 30. Boy what a drag I must say. Don't blame the age. But I have to. I had these things I wanted to do with my life - we all did but somehow we decided to settle down to what we have. When exactly did my life become about High Definition? A state of limbo.

Tragic.