Channeling My Inner-Wentz (more like writing under major sleep deprivation)

sometimes it's all i can do to force my eyes to open. others i can't seem to make them close. my moods are fragmented. switching from one. moment. to. the. next. i can never tell which me i'll be on any given day. "when one door closes, another one opens" but i don't think this is quite what they mean. ride the waves, each one's different from the next, like individual fingerprints being left on the shore. society doesn't test who can be the most unique, it's how many they can make the same. sheep are sheep and that's all they'll ever be. although circumstances and life change, people are stuck the way they are. they are statues that withstand the world around them until they are eventually torn down by time. if i stumbled upon the way to attain immortality, believe me, i'd quickly run the other way. there's no amount to be paid to have me live this over and over again. besides, the man down-under keeps sending me vacation postcards that look oh so inviting. the thing about spilling your thoughts is that you're never too sure which ones people will pick up on, which ones escape by accident and slip through your cerebral fingers. it's a gamble. especially when there's monsters being locked inside that no one wants to let free. temptation is the root of all evil, the instigator, the friend that always gets you into trouble. one moment of desire followed by bliss, quickly swallowed by guilt and consequences. this has no point and maybe it makes no sense, but i mean every word of it. truth comes sliding out when your mind is at its most blank, its most empty. inside me, there isn't a single creative bone to be found. art and literature are beautiful which is exactly why i can't create them. all i can make are these hideously typed ramblings formed out of jumbled up words and sentences. they're not pretty, but they're all i have.