Muster Up.

Have you ever just had too much to think about? Where you just can't isolate one thought, one hope or crisis, and give it your full attention. At times like these, I let the songs I hide behind do the talking for me.

"Tonight I'm finding a way to make the things that you say just a little less obvious, I confess. Tonight I'm dressed up in gold; you've got me fucked up and sold. You talk like you're famous; you're shameless."

There's a point between want and need that is nearly impossible to communicate. I'm amazed at how many hours of the day we spend playing games. Straight answers are hard to come by when everyone is just trying to say the right thing. To dreamers, it's taking a leap without the fears we keep in purses and pockets. To the critics, it's letting the pain set in, swearing off and finding our way back, using the trials to make art worth believing in. To cynics, we forget and keep to ourselves. One storybook ending is sure to leave someone disappointed.

"We dance along to empty beats, filling time with body heat."

All that really seems to matter is this mood that refuses to be shaken off. So much sunshine's reflecting off my teeth despite the covered ground I woke up to. Don't take my first words of the day as my state of mind. Every single menial task you fill your time with now will save you some sort of trouble later, so stifle your sighs and shoot an energy drink to spite those sleepless eyes. Time is hard to come by with the last days of knowledge drying up. What's the use in suffering through completion?

Cross your fingers; count nothing out.