These days, I find myself doing more reading than writing. Putting faith into words written at the hands of others, seeking comfort and familiarity. I wish I could say I were reading scriptures and putting my belief in religion, but creed has lost its conviction with me. I’d rather find solace in the lexis of Socrates or knowledge in the vows of Nietzsche. Let the language of philosophy take over me, feeding my intellect and starving the ill-natured manners of humanity. As camaraderie’s fade to the quintessential lover and novel relationships form to the mold of higher expectation, I can’t help but miss the pungent taste of ignorance, a blinding elixir poised by formality. The contentment of bliss can only last so long.