Does anyone even read this thing anymore?
I know a couple of people do. I'm not sure that it really matters if anyone does read this. If nothing else this journal is just a good way to keep a record of the thoughts that run through my head I want publicly known.
All these memories swim around in my head and the only thing I can really ask myself is, "What was it all for?" The pain, the fights, missed oppurtunities, plans I made, friends I had and the life that'll never be. What the fuck was it all for? I'm not sure that I know. All I wanna do is smash something. But I won't. I'll just sit and listen to music and think about the ghost of what should have been.
This is post-show Rob. Sitting alone, just wondering. No girls nor drugs nor Rock'n'roll. Just me. It's fucking pathetic. No after-parties. No one to wake up to. Just me.
But there's a glimmer of hope on the horizon. There's always hope. There has to be or else I imagine we'd all quit this hi-fucking-larious mindfuck of an existence. A Universe that likes to fuck with you for fun. Ha ha ha! A Prankster Universe!
Frankly, if I had the power to end the Universe, I would. For being an asshole. See who's laughing then. I guess no one would, because laughter would not exist. Nothing would.
Yeah I know, sounds boring. But drugged-up whores, while exciting, are really not all that much fun and are quite tedious. I guess we make our choices. You can't tell the future and such is life and blah blah blah and all that horse-shit nonsense platitude crap people spew so they don't have to deal with the reality that you're on a boat in the middle of the ocean all by yourself. That's life.
I guess that's what makes it all so appealing while on those choppy, lonely waters, is the hope that you'll run into someone out there at sea and maybe for a moment you'll bump boats and make a connection. It's the kind of connection that only comes out of really understanding someone. Like when you truly communicate something to another person or how you can talk to a person close to you without saying a word. That's what it all used to be; conversations 'til 4 in the morning, watching TV together after work, knowing someone wondered where you were and you wondered the same. That's living life.
I guess those days are over for me, for now. I just have to take care of myself and keep my eyes where sky meets the water.
...then I can fuck it up all over again. Go me!
All these memories swim around in my head and the only thing I can really ask myself is, "What was it all for?" The pain, the fights, missed oppurtunities, plans I made, friends I had and the life that'll never be. What the fuck was it all for? I'm not sure that I know. All I wanna do is smash something. But I won't. I'll just sit and listen to music and think about the ghost of what should have been.
This is post-show Rob. Sitting alone, just wondering. No girls nor drugs nor Rock'n'roll. Just me. It's fucking pathetic. No after-parties. No one to wake up to. Just me.
But there's a glimmer of hope on the horizon. There's always hope. There has to be or else I imagine we'd all quit this hi-fucking-larious mindfuck of an existence. A Universe that likes to fuck with you for fun. Ha ha ha! A Prankster Universe!
Frankly, if I had the power to end the Universe, I would. For being an asshole. See who's laughing then. I guess no one would, because laughter would not exist. Nothing would.
Yeah I know, sounds boring. But drugged-up whores, while exciting, are really not all that much fun and are quite tedious. I guess we make our choices. You can't tell the future and such is life and blah blah blah and all that horse-shit nonsense platitude crap people spew so they don't have to deal with the reality that you're on a boat in the middle of the ocean all by yourself. That's life.
I guess that's what makes it all so appealing while on those choppy, lonely waters, is the hope that you'll run into someone out there at sea and maybe for a moment you'll bump boats and make a connection. It's the kind of connection that only comes out of really understanding someone. Like when you truly communicate something to another person or how you can talk to a person close to you without saying a word. That's what it all used to be; conversations 'til 4 in the morning, watching TV together after work, knowing someone wondered where you were and you wondered the same. That's living life.
I guess those days are over for me, for now. I just have to take care of myself and keep my eyes where sky meets the water.
...then I can fuck it up all over again. Go me!