Should I continue writing? Is this going anywhere other than a random journal entry?

Purple with a shade of blue, the sun was rising, my mood was sinking. Another night wasted thinking of him. His eyes are in everything, the sky’s shade of blue and rocky ocean waves, much like his moods. He left as quickly as he came, in the bedroom and out. Where is he? He is with her. She is the subject of all my nightmares. She is the color of dirt. Dirt where worms are not found, it is dull and lacking of nutrients. Simplicity, mediocrity, less; smut is what was chosen over me. I am a web of emotions, a spider weaving through happiness, loneliness, rage, enthusiasm, pion, sadness, aggression, jealousy, possessiveness, confidence, self-loathing, they all intertwine. Multi-dimensional, 3D compatible, I am not fit for mediocrity. I am complex. I would give anything to sing the blues into his. I scare the weak with an independent soul. Restrictions of modernity are like shackles and have transformed this beautiful life into a prison. My hopes and dreams are trapped here within these walls of concrete. I want to get lost in nature, be one with the land. I am not, instead I am roaming amongst millions of other unfortunate souls like sardine packages on subway cars. Fiji, he would promise we would elope to Fiji. Only in my unconscious state in bed, and sometimes on the couch because my king size bed is too big for one. The couch comforts and cradles me, less space to toss and turn and look for him. During the night while my conscious mind rests, I meet him on white sand beaches with clear ocean landscapes. We swim with clown fish and laugh. I wake up wet. Flash back to our romantic road trips. Coasting along state lines, he and I would hold hands. We would listen to national public radio, sneak kisses, hug, and caress one another as he drove Roxy my old Maxima for ten hours straight. It was a beautiful time. Why is he no longer mine?