Yes, it's finally happened. Through the pages of literary genius I've come to a road block. My mind has drawn it's first blank and refuses to produce the well spring of rhythm and blues it so routinely supplied. Yet even in my intellectual stupor I'm managing to create what lies beneath your eyes now. I sit here and force myself to manifest the ideas that usually come so easy to me, but the more I pressure myself the farther I stray away from the my status quo. *sigh* The accumulation of randomness permeating through my mind is disturbing. I'm still yet to pay for my actions and the delay of my consequences will make them harder to bear. At the same time my future is a the pinnacle of my thoughts and its cloudiness scares me. I can only blame myself for the condition it is currently in, but a hope and a prayer is all I have to ensure that my work attire wont include a stitched golden arch. UGH I can't get over this wall in the center of my mind. Even Berlin's was easier to overcome than this. I've noticed over the course of time that my creative productions are becoming less and less creative. Am I losing the intellectual mind I once had? Even now my words are becoming less extravagant and my processes less complicated. I am back to the basics of my literary concepts. Sadly I may be wasting away to nothing more than a mediocre writer due to the daily torment of stress and loss of energy I call life......Hopefully my synapses start to fire again...or you may be witnessing the final tangible production of the tormented soul I call, Wade.