Long philosophical rant that is better suited for here than where it was written

Despite your love for music, I think that's the greatest injury... the fact that it was an extremely special gift. I don't think it's wrong to even use the word sacred if you frame it around the situation correctly.
Unfortunately there isn't anything to mediate the situation except to either endure or change places. Changing places doesn't necessarily indicate changing schools... it just means change, and only you can figure out what needs to be changed.
Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately there is no reality. How can there be a reality? You had a point there when you said what /you/ see, think, feel, believe is your 'reality' and no one elses... no one sees, thinks, feels, or believes in anything equal to the next guy... so reality is just bullshit.
In that case, everything has a bit of a more optimistic feel don't you think? You have your space, paint and color the blank walls with whatever you see fit. Make it cozy, make it small and confined so it's a good place to hide. Or you can blow it up and have everyone invade it and enjoy their company.
You know, this started out as message to comfort you and it's blossomed into so much more. ^^ Interesting how that goes. It's probably not helping much, and you probably don't want food for thought, so it'd probably be best to delete this. But I don't know, something deep inside me is whispering not to.
Anyway, I wonder if we're givin the building materials. Maybe life provides us with a blueprint that's similar to everyone elses... most of us choose to follow it because it's the easy way out. Others might choose to alter it... maybe others are just too lazy to even bother and fade away. Then there are those who are lazy but also vicious and steal the artists' blue prints for their own. Oooh how evil and wonderful it all is. How mysterious human nature is.
You know I've never been able to decide, I've always been on the fence about this... about God, about a creator... but all this talk of blueprints has got me thinking about the masterplan.
There is no other nature or conscience in this world as evil as human nature... nothing so nurturing and disastorous. Or have we been looking in the wrong places? Fucking hell, I'm not going to sleep tonight. I'm stuck, and I've been stuck for a long time. Yet I don't feel like it's a waste... all of these hours of staring at walls, reflections, shadows, clouds. Silently thinking and thinking and thinking while the world is going around me around and around and around. All the while I'm trying to solve its problems in my mind and never reaching a conclusion and never paying attention. That's the real problem isn't it? I'm so caught up in the answer I don't read into the question, so it can never be answered.
Still I don't think it's a waste. How could it be a waste? It doesn't matter anyway. Nothing matters anyway. And that's the only thing that matters isn't it? Ha ha... how coy and skeptical I am. lol just kidding. But anyway, never think what you're doing is a waste. I don't believe in purposes and yet something tells me I shouldn't be listening to the don't in front of believe. Because there have been too many coincidences in my life to continue being coincidences. It's terrifying, painful, and wonderful. If our life is indeed mappedout, that's terribly sad and uneventful... but maybe life is neither completely unpredictable or based on fate. Maybe it's interchangable. I think that'd be best.
Or maybe I'm completely wrong about everything, I probably am. I wonder how I got to the end of this sentence. It's funny how I enter these states of unconsiousness... ah well... I was thinking of putting a: DON'T READ THIS! IT'S BORING AND LONG AND USELESS AND WILL PROBABLY MAKE YOU MORE MISERABLE!
but that usually makes people more curious... maybe you'll read it first since it's the largest thing on here and you'll pay heed to it. Well I love you, I really do.... Because who else could inspire me this way? -sigh- Right-o...
(it's slightly ridiculous that I exceeded the character limit... ah well fuck it all to hell)

g'night lovie. I hope your days improve. And if not you have your New York wayfinder to help you in ways I never can or could, because I can't understand you. How could I if I can't understand myself. In anycase, you have a place with them a sort of little home of healing and rest and fun. You're lucky, and it makes me slightly envious I suppose. I hope you have a great time. You deserve it, dearest. If you need me, which you probably won't. I'll always be stuck here staring at walls and floors and speaking with flowers and paper.

Goodbye

Well that was interesting. Going back to those ancient lands where the sand still whirls in terracotta and ambers. The world can no longer support life, and this place is no different, but it's always been that way. The surface is cracked and the light reflects off of the baked earth and blinds all of the beholders, so in case their was something of beauty out there, it denies you the pleasure of gandering.
What is more painful is knowing that there was once happiness in this lifeless land. Despite the burning sun, people once lived and I suppose you could say thrived there. They struggled but atleast they were together. Both the people and the land knew they couldn't remain.
I sat out there in the dirt, on the sand, on the bloodstained earth for a long time like I always do when I return. During the day, it would be unbearable but as the sun begins to set I hear the earth begin to speak, it starts out in a whisper, but even as a whisper I see the shadows and shapes and ghosts of those who crossed this path before me. I see them creating shelters, chasing their food as it lept across the desert flats, collecting fruits and planting trees to shade them.
Things haven't become complicated they never do. Life can't change, it doesn't change. It may become different, and look different. However, they remain the same.
Before technology and all of this information nonsense people didn't have time to question because of all the work required to survive. Now it seems we do have more time, in reality we're often too busy trying to survive the workweek.
It's ridiculous and wonderful. And it feels great to escape and worry about neither.
Everything is disappearing, everything is sickly and ridden with disease. Everything is ugly. But I suppose it always has been, I just never bothered to look close enough and listen.
It isn't even painful. It doesn't feel like anything. I said goodbye this time, even though I knew about five years back that I should have said goodbye then. I have this ominous feeling that this truly is the end.