Friday, July 18

Getting there. I think.

I'm trying to decide whether I'm going anywhere with my life.

I always feel like I'm getting there, like I'm working towards the things I want. But I never get to where I want to be.

It's not that I don't achieve my goals; I do. It's more that the goals I aim for are the wrong ones.

I can't find the right ones.

I'm looking, though. I feel like the time is right not to achieve my goals in life, but at least to find out what they are.

It's ineffable.

It's a project.

It's a bird. It's a plane.

It's greased lightning.

Swinstead is dead. Long live Swinstead.

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