I wish the world was flat like the old days.
This shit isn't even worth ranting about anymore. It's not the kind of shit you put out there for others to wade through, hoping to find some clarity in the regurgitated fishbait and pond scum that is somehow supposed to render things less complicated. It hurts, deep down, that I cannot recognize a happy relationship between two people because I've never seen one occur between the people I've been 'closest' to. Nothing but divorces, broken households, tattered friendships, and cynical dispositions. When I start to get pissed off, it worries me because I've grown to understand the true meaning behind my anger. I go about my busy days and I try to ignore the impending spatter of shell-cased rage that will inevitably turn everything upside down once more.
What really turns my stomach is the most recent change of current; I don't drive myself crazy over every little thing that agitates the people I am contracted to by means of commonplace understanding. I'm beginning to choose for myself what is most important and what needs my immediate attention, rather than allowing myself to feel bombarded by the input of everybody around me. However, this leads me to dwell on opportunities to make others feel better by sacrificing what was initially important to me. If you don't understand that, don't worry about it, because it probably isn't that serious anyway.
I used to love falling in love so much. It was that one shred of innocent playfulness I had left in these bones of mine. I had a young, inexperienced perspective on what other people are supposed to mean to me and what I'm supposed to mean to them. Now, I'm so jaded that I just don't care anymore; the most appetizing means to an end for me is to continue on alone and do alone and think alone and, more or less, BE alone. But, as I begin this sentence with a conjunction, I understand that others will not proceed unscathed by this selfish desire of mine. Wait just a minute - funny, I was selfish before, when I was depending on the presence of others for confirmation, for justification, for affection...what's the fucking use of making sense of things if they're not going to make sense at all?
That's just a mere TIP of a huge, raunchy iceberg floating in the pit of my corrosive stomach acids. I don't even know what the fuck I'm doing anymore, I'm just continuing on like I have a clue, because where there was once a puddle of understanding, there is now an ocean of fuck-if-I-know.
You have no idea how much I DON'T want to hear that I'm going through some average, run-of-the-mill bullshit because ultimately, it's all relative - but how far has dwelling on relativity gotten us? Jotting our addresses down in our underpants and casting shitty actors in shitty movies written around shitty cliches?
God DAMN I'm ornery right now.
Remember that there is nothing stable in human affairs; therefore avoid undue elation in prosperity, or undue depression in adversity.
-Socrates
What really turns my stomach is the most recent change of current; I don't drive myself crazy over every little thing that agitates the people I am contracted to by means of commonplace understanding. I'm beginning to choose for myself what is most important and what needs my immediate attention, rather than allowing myself to feel bombarded by the input of everybody around me. However, this leads me to dwell on opportunities to make others feel better by sacrificing what was initially important to me. If you don't understand that, don't worry about it, because it probably isn't that serious anyway.
I used to love falling in love so much. It was that one shred of innocent playfulness I had left in these bones of mine. I had a young, inexperienced perspective on what other people are supposed to mean to me and what I'm supposed to mean to them. Now, I'm so jaded that I just don't care anymore; the most appetizing means to an end for me is to continue on alone and do alone and think alone and, more or less, BE alone. But, as I begin this sentence with a conjunction, I understand that others will not proceed unscathed by this selfish desire of mine. Wait just a minute - funny, I was selfish before, when I was depending on the presence of others for confirmation, for justification, for affection...what's the fucking use of making sense of things if they're not going to make sense at all?
That's just a mere TIP of a huge, raunchy iceberg floating in the pit of my corrosive stomach acids. I don't even know what the fuck I'm doing anymore, I'm just continuing on like I have a clue, because where there was once a puddle of understanding, there is now an ocean of fuck-if-I-know.
You have no idea how much I DON'T want to hear that I'm going through some average, run-of-the-mill bullshit because ultimately, it's all relative - but how far has dwelling on relativity gotten us? Jotting our addresses down in our underpants and casting shitty actors in shitty movies written around shitty cliches?
God DAMN I'm ornery right now.
Remember that there is nothing stable in human affairs; therefore avoid undue elation in prosperity, or undue depression in adversity.
-Socrates