This Is Crap, Do Not Read.
What am I doing here? And why am I doing it? You know those days when you kind of just want to take a steaming hot shower and curl up on the floor and hug your knees and rock back and forth while you drown in a mixture of water and tears and you're thinking I gotta get out now so I don't waste water but you can't, you can't, because this is the only bliss in your life? Those days when you just wanna lay face-down on your cold pillow with the curtains closed and the lights off all day and listen to the crickets and think about your life, or maybe about nothing, but you have to get up, and your whole body aches, and you want to break down but you can't, because you have to go to school? When all you have to live for is yourself, but you're kind of doubting if you're worth it. When you're freaking out because you're already a sophomore and you still don't know what the hell you're doing. When most of your smiles are forced. When your number one addiction is deep midnight conversations about transcendental crap. When you sort of think a little bit that depression may actually help you, but you wake up the next morning to a fresh ray of sunshine peeking through your blinds and that crisp, minted smell of an early autumn morning, and you're happy, and you realize that last night was absolute bull because you're not depressed, who could be depressed in a world that gives you mornings like this? And then the day goes by in a blur of quadratic inequalities and cell membranes and Mycenaeans and Jane Eyre, and you get home and have dinner and practice and do homework, and then it's night, and all you can remember from today was that someone gave you a thumbs-up, and someone else complimented your shirt, and someone else asked you to help them with their essay. And none of that matters now, though it did at the time, but it really really doesn't now, because it's now, and what is happening now is that you're talking to a friend online and she's really happy and hyper, and you're responding to her IMs with one-word responses because the energy has whooshed out of you like a Candle in the Wind, but you can't go to sleep yet because if you do you might miss something, you might miss an opportunity to express yourself, and then you think What's the point? And you kind of bum everyone out with your... is it sadness? Boredom? Depression? No... what is it? You know? Those days when you can't stop worrying, because you don't know what the heeeeeeeeeeeeeck you're going to do with your life, and you're afraid of being let down, but hey, that happens to everyone, but that doesn't comfort you... and so by 6pm you're completely drained and you can't focus on Jane or dividing polynomials because your eyes keep blurring over and your mind keeps going not blank, exactly, but reasonably close to it. And so the ennui of life continues. And you live artificially, and you can't stop living artificially, no matter how often you tell yourself This is the last bag of chips I will eat or This is the last Delia's shirt I will buy or This is the last time I will procrastinate online. Because we have been born into an artificial world, and the world is what makes up our lives, and therefore, by the Transitive Property, we are artificial. <
Ta-ta.