(no subject)
I think that hermitage is my calling. Friends are complicated and just end up screwing you over. Fiction is better than real life anyway, so why bother? No one says what they mean, not even me and good moods can only take you so far. Eventually, true colours show people for the selfish and judgemental incompetants that they really are.
And none of this is exclusive to other people. I do it too, and it bugs me. I can't be who I am because people will hate me. I can't pretend that I'm something else because I'll hate myself. And as I'm typing, I'm hating myself even more for putting to words all of the cliché and moronic ramblings that run through my head.
I'm not an original person. I'm the varified regurgitation of humanity. I hate myself for not being able to find who I am and I hate it that even when I think I've found it, it turns out to be what everyone else is.
I don't want to be special, I just want to have original thoughts. I don't want to fit into a category, and even with that thought, I'm fitting into one. It doesn't make me less of a person, it makes me more of one and it's stupid.
I follow an accepted path and I'm fine, I stray a bit, and I feel like a failure. I feel like I'm not living up to what I could be, but at the same time, a voice in the back of my brain is saying, "It doesn't matter if you live up to anything because life ends and you'll be forgotten!" Sometimes I agree with this voice, but sometimes I feel like I have to try and the volume is turned down on it, but it's always there.
Like Socrates, I know that I don't know and it bothers me. I need to know more about what's around me to know what's in me and none of it is for certain. Nothing is concrete and nothing stays true forever. So all I can do is question forever, expressing the same questions in different ways, knowing that I'll probably never find an answer.
And none of this is exclusive to other people. I do it too, and it bugs me. I can't be who I am because people will hate me. I can't pretend that I'm something else because I'll hate myself. And as I'm typing, I'm hating myself even more for putting to words all of the cliché and moronic ramblings that run through my head.
I'm not an original person. I'm the varified regurgitation of humanity. I hate myself for not being able to find who I am and I hate it that even when I think I've found it, it turns out to be what everyone else is.
I don't want to be special, I just want to have original thoughts. I don't want to fit into a category, and even with that thought, I'm fitting into one. It doesn't make me less of a person, it makes me more of one and it's stupid.
I follow an accepted path and I'm fine, I stray a bit, and I feel like a failure. I feel like I'm not living up to what I could be, but at the same time, a voice in the back of my brain is saying, "It doesn't matter if you live up to anything because life ends and you'll be forgotten!" Sometimes I agree with this voice, but sometimes I feel like I have to try and the volume is turned down on it, but it's always there.
Like Socrates, I know that I don't know and it bothers me. I need to know more about what's around me to know what's in me and none of it is for certain. Nothing is concrete and nothing stays true forever. So all I can do is question forever, expressing the same questions in different ways, knowing that I'll probably never find an answer.