Category : Diary/Journal

Sub Category : N/A

Stuck in the middle, with what seems to be a riddle. I sit and I fiddle, eyes down, flipping my lighter a little. Can't think too clearly, I need to stop being in such a hurry. Why do I worry? Why are these thoughts so blurry? It all rushes in with a fury, in a flurry of memory seeming so stormy I can't see thoroughly. I'm waiting maybe, maybe that's why I'm in such a hurry? Maybe I'll find out by the time I turn forty? I'm missing something, that's one thing I know clearly, though I can't see it clearly. I feel like it rhymes with the words, gnarly, enemy, militia, or sorry. My mind is foggy.