I haven't noded nearly as much as I wish I had.
I haven't noded nearly enough about the things I should.
I have written only one node that I am proud is here, though I keep the others in fear that I may forget why I wrote them to begin with.
So what is this, why am I writing now? I don't know, but I want you all to know that.
I was young until I grew old, I grew old whilst I was still young and this has made my life an interesting one. It has made me an interesting character. It has ruined me.
There are a million days left for me to grow old, to change myself, to fix my errors, anything.
There is no answer or reason to anything I'm saying.
This is my mind.
Unwinding in words.
Unknowingly unravelling myself.
You see, tomorrow I go back to the place I lay my head at night. For one fortnight, one week and one day I have been away from the place I now call home, I have returned to the place I once called home. I have enjoyed this time and will enjoy time back home, I always do in the small ways, but I am unhappy with life as a whole.
How odd.
This may seem pointless and not worth your time. I may seem abstract and insane. This may never express anything I can explain. But when I reflect upon it in the future, I will remember and maybe, when you read this, you will remember something important to you.
This here is only an expression of my thoughts, of my wonderings, of something...
Tomorrow I will go home, I should have written something more important for you all to read and love in the time I have been here. Instead you are left only with a strange piece of writing about nothing.
I'm sorry. I'm not a very good writer, not really.