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mad mumblings #2
i don't even remember what the point of all this is. WHATS THE FUCKING POINT?!?!? i'm still depressed. i'm always depressed. why? what? fuck.
and here i am, i just wasted, like 5 hours of my life. five hours i can never get back, and for what? to wake up again to a sorry existence filled with meaningless problems and permutatory calculations for a life not lived. i hate it. i hate everything.
and yet that itself is wrong because hating everything would immediately negate any and all decisions to strive to better it, which i sort of do every single time. i hate how self-negating i am.
i guess that's why people love life's delicious ironies
the short of it is that i'm tired. i find it all so futile. everything. and yet i continue on it every single day, getting nervous, preparing, facing it, challenging it. i'm just so, so, so tired. tired of feeling. period.
i mean how crazy is that? how do you get tired of feeling? i don't know. you just know it when you feel it. this endless cycle offers no release. it's so cruel.
it's like you're standing on a plank of wood in the middle of the ocean with tiger sharks circling around you. thing is the ocean's full of planks, but none of the planks can hold you forever. As you make your way from one plank to the next, you get this feeling that it'll never end and you might as well take your chance with the sharks, but the trouble with that is that you're so fucking scared of the sharks (it makes no sense), that you'd rather jump from one plank to the next, but then again you're so tired of jumping on the planks that seem to offer very temporal (if any) relief. and again and again. and that isn't the worst of it, you also have to think about how the hell you're going to survive because you know you'll die of starvation anyway. but you still walk across the planks, hoping that some ship comes by or that the planks lead all the way to the shore. fuck. fuck.
take me down to the paradise city
mauve angelus dreamt on* 6:02 AM
i'm gonna put something here! wait!
