You Should Know By Now
It's bizarre how random things can serve as catalysts for unknown emotions. I was sitting here playing poker, iTunes in the background doing its thing, and then the process began.
3,000 songs on this particular play list and Let Go from The Garden State Soundtrack and Hurt by Johnny Cash just happen to play one right after the other. One moment I'm enjoying a rare instance of unbridled bliss, not hindered by my usual melodramatic thoughts, and the next moment I'm swept up into the all to familiar whirlwind of self-deprication.
Why do I do this?
Just when my life seems to finally be getting back in order I am struck with a feeling of despair. I finally have a new job (one I don't actually hate for a change), I'm paying off all my fines and debts, my license is only 3 months away, no relationship drama; yet this feeling. This fucking feeling.
This past semester I learned what a misguided sense of verismilitude was in terms of writing. Basically, it's when you put facts and details into your writing for no reason. For example, if name my main character's name is David, it should have some significance to the piece as a whole rather than just being a random name.
Right now it seems that all the details in my story are examples of misguided sense of verismilitude.
I don't know if it's because I watched Fight Club the other day or the fact that my days are free from any type of obligation, but I feel lost. Beyond lost. I need a flashlight and Thomas Guide just to find being lost.
I'm not sad. I'm not lonely.
I'm lifeless. I'm devoid of anything resembling feelings or emotions.
My phone hasn't ringed in two days.
This girl Jenn, who you might be familiar with from entries past, once told me that I don't want to be happy. It sounded preposterous at the time. Who doesn't want to be happy?
Now, it seems like a legitmate possibility. I seem to avoid it at all cost. Almost everyone and anything that has brought that sensation into my life has been slowly removed. It's like that story I wrote about the man at the bar who couldn't ask the woman out; as David turns to the only beauty left in the room...
i hurt myself today... to see if I still feel
3,000 songs on this particular play list and Let Go from The Garden State Soundtrack and Hurt by Johnny Cash just happen to play one right after the other. One moment I'm enjoying a rare instance of unbridled bliss, not hindered by my usual melodramatic thoughts, and the next moment I'm swept up into the all to familiar whirlwind of self-deprication.
Why do I do this?
Just when my life seems to finally be getting back in order I am struck with a feeling of despair. I finally have a new job (one I don't actually hate for a change), I'm paying off all my fines and debts, my license is only 3 months away, no relationship drama; yet this feeling. This fucking feeling.
This past semester I learned what a misguided sense of verismilitude was in terms of writing. Basically, it's when you put facts and details into your writing for no reason. For example, if name my main character's name is David, it should have some significance to the piece as a whole rather than just being a random name.
Right now it seems that all the details in my story are examples of misguided sense of verismilitude.
I don't know if it's because I watched Fight Club the other day or the fact that my days are free from any type of obligation, but I feel lost. Beyond lost. I need a flashlight and Thomas Guide just to find being lost.
I'm not sad. I'm not lonely.
I'm lifeless. I'm devoid of anything resembling feelings or emotions.
My phone hasn't ringed in two days.
This girl Jenn, who you might be familiar with from entries past, once told me that I don't want to be happy. It sounded preposterous at the time. Who doesn't want to be happy?
Now, it seems like a legitmate possibility. I seem to avoid it at all cost. Almost everyone and anything that has brought that sensation into my life has been slowly removed. It's like that story I wrote about the man at the bar who couldn't ask the woman out; as David turns to the only beauty left in the room...
i hurt myself today... to see if I still feel