I always find myself searching for a bit of peace and quiet. Yet I always end up like the soda can in this picture, trapped beneath a layer of ice, aware of my situation but unable to break through. I know exactly what I want but am completely powerless to change it. I try with everything I have. Every bit of spirit pours out, fueled by any dream ever conceived in my oversized head. From the obnoxious desire in fourth grade to be a weatherman to the desire now to see political artifice be obscured by genuine change, I push forward, unrelenting. But then comes that terrible moment. The sun vanishes. The flowers seem to lilt. The air stiffens and becomes heavy. Every bit of spirit is useless. That is the situation now. A grim beginning. A critical juncture that could mark a relatively consistent set of behaviours and goals or a dramatic upheavel that could set me down a path that I do not want to take. Thus I think most deeply and carefully, hoping for a way out of the listless air and unassuming malaise. What I feel most dear about depends on it.
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