Life and Writing
I am having one of those inward imploding moments mentally. It came on as Irritability and within a short time I felt like wringing someone's neck and beating myself up at the same time.
It's the same Issue, or more correctly, the same reason, Life. Not in the general sense, but my life, the road that leads to the same cycle of going nowhere and doing nothing but this over and over and over.
Those walls always laughing at me for I am ever unable to scale them.
There is this seemingly indelible feeling that no matter what I set for myself, a goal, that if I even bother to go through with it, try to accomplish it, it will be a momentary greatness and that when the world goes to shit, it will mean absolutely nothing; and I feel that moment is closer and closer. I am constantly at odds, conflicting with myself, on whether to go through with this objective, because on the one hand I wish for it, for it's outcome, to be shared, and on the other hand I don't want to give away that part of myself so freely; I like certain things kept hidden and un-criticised. It's a contradiction and my lingering, my procrastination, is ruining.
I have not had anything to write about for a long time and that has been disquieting for me. Nothing of interest has come to mind beyond this droll repetitive lifestyle. There's this battling mentality, suffering contradictions of missing something and being humbled and happy with what I've got. I feel guilty when I complain about anything, Extreme Guilt, and sadness fills me then. and I am left with nothing else to say, only things to feel of which I cannot explain.
It's the same Issue, or more correctly, the same reason, Life. Not in the general sense, but my life, the road that leads to the same cycle of going nowhere and doing nothing but this over and over and over.
Those walls always laughing at me for I am ever unable to scale them.
There is this seemingly indelible feeling that no matter what I set for myself, a goal, that if I even bother to go through with it, try to accomplish it, it will be a momentary greatness and that when the world goes to shit, it will mean absolutely nothing; and I feel that moment is closer and closer. I am constantly at odds, conflicting with myself, on whether to go through with this objective, because on the one hand I wish for it, for it's outcome, to be shared, and on the other hand I don't want to give away that part of myself so freely; I like certain things kept hidden and un-criticised. It's a contradiction and my lingering, my procrastination, is ruining.
I have not had anything to write about for a long time and that has been disquieting for me. Nothing of interest has come to mind beyond this droll repetitive lifestyle. There's this battling mentality, suffering contradictions of missing something and being humbled and happy with what I've got. I feel guilty when I complain about anything, Extreme Guilt, and sadness fills me then. and I am left with nothing else to say, only things to feel of which I cannot explain.