i sit here for hours on end. trying to convince myself there’s a reason. one sole reason to go on. to continue past this point. live to the next moment. what does this moment hold? merely some form of hope through tranquility to define the next. i stare at this same screen each day. awaiting the perfect image to one day appear. it’s always the same, hopeless routine. i never find that one image. perhaps for a moment, but the very next it will no longer matter. it’s imperfections will arise and i’ll continue forth, once again, head to stone.
