Sticky Keys

4, 5 drafts line up on the dashboard, none nearly finished and honestly, I don't know why. It can't be writer's block. Could it be lack of resolve of what needs to be said, have I lost my ability to BS at will? The thing is whatever I say on this blog is strictly the blunt truth, there is no following nor is it in any way intended to serve anybody but myself. So there really isn't any incentive to overinflate posts nor would there be any sugar coating here. But undoubtedly there is a source to void. Currently, I am at my childhood home, Kelab Darul Ehsan. I used to spend days here with friends and family without a care in the world. A much simpler time where your biggest responsibilities were your own. Nobody to represent, to rely on you and look to you for guidance. The expectations are deafening and stakeholders diverse. MSLS is in three days, arguably the biggest annual event UKEC has. And here I am. I was moments ago staring onto a blank piece of paper try

Look up to the moon child, Don't you feel the hope or just sorrow? Is it pain or is it relief of Stare to the candle, read the flame. Do you see the moon men? They dance and frolic high above, Could they be happy or desperate for rain, Bumps of red pulsing to the forest sounds. Is your reality here or there? I do not feel the sensations of current, Nor do I reap the rewards of delay, Confused crickets creaking, craving, crawling, conforming, crap.