I took basements for granted back home. I'd kill for my basement. Just for the solitude. The quiet. That cold. I like it down there. It's so me. I can sit in my huge room and listen to my vinyl and just dream. I find myself dreaming more lately. The more people ask me about my future the more unsure I seem to get. I feel like I can't control it anyways you know. I feel like it's not for me to decide so why should I worry so much about it. I'm gonna do my best but ultimately I can't control how things pan out. I can't control whether I get that interview, I can't control whether I make it across the street alive or not. All I know is what I am. I know what's real to me. I know what's worth risking, what's worth defining yourself over. I know what passion feels like. I know what happiness feels like. But why do I find myself holding me back? Why does the world want to restrain me? I don't get how this "life" is supposed to work out. People expect something from everyone, but no one really asks the right questions it seems. No one really wants to know what's deeper. I think we're afraid if we ask, we'll realize that we made a wrong move. We'll rekindle our true aspirations. We'll rediscover ourselves.