Blue? Writing About Nothing.

What does it mean to stand on the sideline? I do not know.

 Is it a noble pursuit to allow another player on this blue spinny sphere to take a glory in your stead?

I believe it is.

...but then what is glory anyway? Is it even worth working towards?

Glory, and the pursuit thereof, is for the shallow. Accolades, trophies, achievements, laurels, these don't matter. Then what does matter? What dictates and defines one man's idea of achievement over another? One soul's pursuit is another's pain.

I ramble.

This hypocritical writing and "deep" thinking is growing more pointless and tiresome it seems. Always asking questions, never providing any answers. It's nothing but some wanton mind spinning out of control in the late hours of the eventide.

This is only a practice in preoccupying my mind for just a moment. Staring at the ceiling with blank expression and only accompanied by the unrelenting barrage of thoughts, malicious and otherwise. Is this all just a practice in morbidly hilarious futility? Again, an answer I can not provide.

I focus on the blue LEDs of my keyboard. They're an easy and simple distraction of thought. An exercise in stretching my lexicon of color.

Azure, Navy, Sky, Indigo, Lapis Lazuli, Ultramarine, Neon, Cobalt, Cyan, Teal, Egyptian, Prussian, Cerulean, Something borrowed...

This color is sharply contrasted by the faint red hue of my alarm clock. It reads 12:38. I could list colors of red, but I'm bored of this exercise.

This is nothing but an effort in free writing. An attempt to empty the gray matter in my cranium. No point made, no wisdom gleamed. You've wasted your time here and for that I apologize.

However, you should try it sometime. Ink to page, so to speak.

Does it prevent the feeling of bleak isolation that comes from occupying a space alone? No. It's more akin to warming yourself with a flask of whiskey. It doesn't effect the cold in anyway, but it knows how it pretend like the best of thespians.