Sometimes, I think that I may have lost the beat that inspired me. Five years ago, I wouldn't have known what I meant if I had that thought.

When I was a child, I had some sense of stability in my life. Stability in my hope that life could improve, and within its core, life was meant to be beautiful. I don't know if I believe that anymore.

I think life is supposed to be hard. People are meant to struggle. People are meant to build themselves back up. But why? When do you lose that hope and the drive.

Teachers and adults would always applaud students for projects that benefitted others. As if, that all disappears when you reach a certain age. You can't find hope or you know better than to be tricked into thinking it exists. I see colleagues and professors and classmates who think like this. Everything is a circle-jerk. Then why are we here? What are we doing this for? If you honestly believed that, wouldn't you just give up and call it a life? Or do you live just to feel the few moments of bliss that happiness can bring?

I'm not sure that I know the answer, but I know that feeling empty isn't it.