A ubiquitous restlessness pervades into the very being of my everything. Everything that is meant to be straight seems awry and everything that is not, is. Straight that is. But I remind myself that this is how it is meant to be for me to grow. For if I weren't to test my agility in this manner, I would be failing this test. This test of life that is. Or is it? Yet another microcosm of its mysteries I guess. I should really just leave it at that. But I can't seem to find an appeasement of any sort. Not from written verbiage, nor from a verbal vent. The verbal vent is actually inconspicuous. So much so, that it actually has no bearings or form in actuality. Perhaps the essence of ineffectiveness that ensues my attempts of producing anything worth notice is what ignites such restlessness? Perhaps it is the unconscious need for notice that does? Perhaps not finding a healthy balance between the two does? Yet another question, and then some. It all goes back to the lessons that one is to learn from all happenings. The restlessness remains unmasked. Steadfast rituals of spiritual faith and healing unhinge them momentarily enough for me to find my sanity of sorts. In a self inflicted quietness, I immerse myself thus.