People...
I understand now why i write when i'm depressed.
It's because that is when i am most creative. But in my silly little mind, i think i'm special, set apart from the rest. I think that people care about what i have to say. How wrong i am. I hate to think back upon how blind i've been. No one cares about me and no one cares about the things that i do. No one cares about what i write, people could care less if i wasn't there the next day. My existence is nothing but that, existance....and even if i am gone, people will just keep on existing. No one would kill themselves over me, and they shouldn't either. What good could come of my death, more importantly though, who would care. No one.
People exist for a reason...this much seems to be true, but is there a person who deserves to exist?
Is it the hypocritical preacher of the mainstream church that tells you of how weak you are and salvation will only come to you if you pledge total allegiance to the most popular god-head figure? Does he deserve to exist?
Is it the angst-ridden teenager who hates everything and everyone and does care who knows it? Does he deserve to exist?
Is it the supposed good samaritan who helps people, showing his good side to you, but steals, bribes, and corrupts others for his own benefit? Does he deserve to exist?
Who among us deserves to exist more than the other? Is your life that much more important than mine? Is there something about you that lets you say things to me without fearing reprocution? Is it that something in your tiny preconceived mind that tells you you are better than me?
Yes, i am smart, but not the smartest. Yes, i am strong, but less than a body builder. Yes, i am creative, but my works have not earned me respect, or money. Yes i can sing and write and act, but will that be enough?
I am just another person who exists. Just someone else who thinks they are special, set apart from the others. Just another person who exists without knowing the insignificance of life.
I understand now why i write when i'm depressed.
It's because that is when i am most creative. But in my silly little mind, i think i'm special, set apart from the rest. I think that people care about what i have to say. How wrong i am. I hate to think back upon how blind i've been. No one cares about me and no one cares about the things that i do. No one cares about what i write, people could care less if i wasn't there the next day. My existence is nothing but that, existance....and even if i am gone, people will just keep on existing. No one would kill themselves over me, and they shouldn't either. What good could come of my death, more importantly though, who would care. No one.
People exist for a reason...this much seems to be true, but is there a person who deserves to exist?
Is it the hypocritical preacher of the mainstream church that tells you of how weak you are and salvation will only come to you if you pledge total allegiance to the most popular god-head figure? Does he deserve to exist?
Is it the angst-ridden teenager who hates everything and everyone and does care who knows it? Does he deserve to exist?
Is it the supposed good samaritan who helps people, showing his good side to you, but steals, bribes, and corrupts others for his own benefit? Does he deserve to exist?
Who among us deserves to exist more than the other? Is your life that much more important than mine? Is there something about you that lets you say things to me without fearing reprocution? Is it that something in your tiny preconceived mind that tells you you are better than me?
Yes, i am smart, but not the smartest. Yes, i am strong, but less than a body builder. Yes, i am creative, but my works have not earned me respect, or money. Yes i can sing and write and act, but will that be enough?
I am just another person who exists. Just someone else who thinks they are special, set apart from the others. Just another person who exists without knowing the insignificance of life.
I understand now why i write when i'm depressed.