Fridays are cold

This is the blog that no one reads. I like that. It is like being in the desert, the digital version. All these lost souls online but not one to connect with. My mother woke me up this morning. A phone call by my computer. I did not answer of course as my time with her has come to an end. I hate her and I am not afraid to say it. I feel like growing with my family was an odd form of prison. What I mean to say is, routine. We had routines. Wake up -> Get yelled at. Come home -> Get yelled at. Go to sleep -> Depressed. My dreams were amazing though. I would float, fly, and dive into adventures. Escape from this place that I called home. Family, sucks, not much else to it. My family is fine, they are not hurtful, physically. We are weak and useless beings. I do not choose to be like that again... depressed and angry. I do not wish to hate anything but hate. So I hate my mom, because I hate that part of the tree and I also embrace it.

Love is a funny word for this post. I feel it is an invisible word, untraceable. You can find it almost anywhere though. The way my cat meows at the window to come inside brings love into my heart for instance. Small forms of stability. I am lonely, but I am not depressed, I am balanced and very happy. Balance is another funny word. Who is to say what is and what is not with balance? I can never confirm such a thing. Who can?

Lastly, my comedy. It has improved exponentially. I am alone in this world, but that is a lie. I have a comedian partner... a friend. Together we progress, like a family. My comedy has grown and stage performance has changed vastly. I love comedy, it is my therapy. I will never stop. I lie again. I will stop one day. People die and live. Balance.