I am fading out. Into a hallow void. I am drifting away. Into nothingness.

Ok. It's not so bad. (I've seen too many people grow alarmed by people's blogging. This is not a cry, just a whimper.)

I often say people here in the midwest are like an unfinished painting. Perhaps the whole midwest is like an unfinished painting. Too soft. A mere outline.

That is I.

Perhaps I have been here too long. Perhaps here is in my head.

I have been here too long — in this comfortable oblivion. And I'm not sure I know the way out.

I like my delusions. My delusions are pretty. Most things are not.

I like my delusions. But my illusions can't hold up.

I'm not sure where to go from here. I'm not sure what to become. But I long to become. I long to become.

It has been a while since I became. I am nothing.
I will be, though. I will be.

Watch me.