Who?
I forgot who I was. I do that sometimes. It's not a good feeling, y'know? Actually, you probably do.
I wasn't doing too well yesterday. If there's one thing that feels worse than doing something wrong, it may be realizing that you're doing something wrong and not doing anything to change it.
I found myself "dissatisfied" with life, despite clearly seeing that I had stumbled upon a life that I had once before thought I could only dream of having: a 40 hour Engineering job out of high school, a Pontiac Firebird, and most importantly a relationship with a lady like Lindsey. Not to mention that, long ago, I had wished to live in Michigan... or that I had wanted to go to Canada, but never believed it to be a possibility.
Perhaps it's malnutrition, perhaps a chemical imbalance... or perhaps it's even an attitude problem. Regardless of its source, the greatest hindrance is the inability to feel joy.
Each day could be designed to have as many ups and downs as the last, and I'd still have wild mood changes between weeks.
Then, there's the chance that my fate has a sick sence of irony, and that it offers me my desires as double-edged blades.
Whatever the case, it's late. As usual, I shall come to a premature conclusion (possibly the safest one, at that): It's an attitude problem. I have to take the bad with the good, and I need to find happiness in the worst of situations, so that I may respect myself once again and be a positive addition to the world.
Oh yeah, and American Pyscho is as good as Fight Club and Momento.
I wasn't doing too well yesterday. If there's one thing that feels worse than doing something wrong, it may be realizing that you're doing something wrong and not doing anything to change it.
I found myself "dissatisfied" with life, despite clearly seeing that I had stumbled upon a life that I had once before thought I could only dream of having: a 40 hour Engineering job out of high school, a Pontiac Firebird, and most importantly a relationship with a lady like Lindsey. Not to mention that, long ago, I had wished to live in Michigan... or that I had wanted to go to Canada, but never believed it to be a possibility.
Perhaps it's malnutrition, perhaps a chemical imbalance... or perhaps it's even an attitude problem. Regardless of its source, the greatest hindrance is the inability to feel joy.
Each day could be designed to have as many ups and downs as the last, and I'd still have wild mood changes between weeks.
Then, there's the chance that my fate has a sick sence of irony, and that it offers me my desires as double-edged blades.
Whatever the case, it's late. As usual, I shall come to a premature conclusion (possibly the safest one, at that): It's an attitude problem. I have to take the bad with the good, and I need to find happiness in the worst of situations, so that I may respect myself once again and be a positive addition to the world.
Oh yeah, and American Pyscho is as good as Fight Club and Momento.