And For Every Time You Fed Me The Line, "You Mean So Much To Me..."

This ones just a time killer.
And its the most slow and painful death time has ever recieved. Maybe.
(Admit you wouldnt notice if I faded away)
Wow I really dont have anything to say right here.
Today was good, I went into photographical mode, otherwise known as make-believe mode. I can lose myself in it a bit. Its the closest thing Ive felt to a passion other than music but, lets be honest here it pales in comparison. You write a song and its all yours, each word is one everybody knows but theyve never been put in that exact same order for three full minutes, the tunes your own and the sounds is indespensible, unique. It flows and it turns and it progresses and its yours, no matter how technically perfect it is, no matter how eloquent you sound, maybe it doesnt even matter when its for your ears only.
You take a picture of an item, anything, and no matter what the angle, lighting, colour, editing, someone else could have the exact same one, now a million miles away. And asides from that, it just doesnt feel the same. You dont get that rush, pressure, perfectionism, satisfaction... I hope that doesnt sound creepy? You know, in a way...
But its kind of... I take these hundreds upon hundreds of pictures, all nothing special, all imperfect and meaningless, but they build up this whole world, it makes mine seem a lot more beautiful than it is. Its like Im building my own memories and perceptions, so ideal and so unreal its just... cheap, I guess, lies. Its almost turning the natural into the unnatural, or the farthest thing from natural possible without a literal transformation.
Weird...
(Simply a spark slowly burning to silence)
Im feeling... figuratively- brittle at the moment. Like the tiniest bit of pressure, the right choice of words and Ill just snap, let rip at an unworthy opponent. Maybe thats a warning, for anyone lucky enough to stumble across this. Truth be told Im sick of being told what to do. How I should act, what I should want, who I should see, Im really done caring. Im done with guilt. Well unreasonable guilt, cause theres plenty of reasoned guilt all the time anyway.
(Sorry for the sorrow, and the way I treat the truth)
I should probably go do something more productive and less annoying.
I promise; Im really not worth the bother this evening.