Breathing is Better Than a Xanax
day in and day out i am force fed a dose of mediocrity and am not in the least bit fond of this apparently prescribed something-or-other.
i'm leaving tomorrow and am not all too sure i even remotely wish to return. for many reasons.
i don't know how to trust myself to determine my right from want. i've never based a decision on its long term outcome. i can't see the end of the road, my vision's no good.
my mind is intoxicated by these complimentary complaints and then strangled by these entirely nauseating comments. it's difficult to block out the words of fools; they never conceive the word 'stop'.
i see the people around me crumbling under pressure. see them frustrated at their failures, their misconceptions, their experiences with difficulties in life. i see them; see them as weak. unevolved. girls crying under the stresses of school and relationships. boys crying that they didn't make the team. they're all seemingly weak.
but then i broke down myself. confused everything in a big inner monologue.
i'm frustrated and very, very pissed off over my seemingly worthy factors and observations. my realizations on human life and behavior. they all come out nauseatingly pessimistic. i see no evidence of the described 'good things' in life--those things allegedly worth living for.
we're all addicts. we all have that addictive personality. aren't we all living the same onanistic life; isn't it true that we're all in it for the long term goal of gratification? the big pay off? whatever our personal idea of what the "big pay off" is, that's what we're after, yes?
i breathe like a blow fish.heaving my stomach out so that it's big and round like the empty bellies of those children in Africa who are starving--who are breathing their own deaths. i sleep like a baby, waking up at the rudest hours of the night. tossing and turning all night like those old stop, drop, and roll commercials. my doctor says breathing is better than a xanax. all i wanted were some lipstick red seconals. all i wanted was to sleep properly.
i wish someone would keep me in like cancer-the disease that should have died-but i selfishly refuse to selflessly give up my own life.
i've nothing more to say apart from, Rad, expect mail in approximately two mailing days.
i'm leaving tomorrow and am not all too sure i even remotely wish to return. for many reasons.
i don't know how to trust myself to determine my right from want. i've never based a decision on its long term outcome. i can't see the end of the road, my vision's no good.
my mind is intoxicated by these complimentary complaints and then strangled by these entirely nauseating comments. it's difficult to block out the words of fools; they never conceive the word 'stop'.
i see the people around me crumbling under pressure. see them frustrated at their failures, their misconceptions, their experiences with difficulties in life. i see them; see them as weak. unevolved. girls crying under the stresses of school and relationships. boys crying that they didn't make the team. they're all seemingly weak.
but then i broke down myself. confused everything in a big inner monologue.
i'm frustrated and very, very pissed off over my seemingly worthy factors and observations. my realizations on human life and behavior. they all come out nauseatingly pessimistic. i see no evidence of the described 'good things' in life--those things allegedly worth living for.
we're all addicts. we all have that addictive personality. aren't we all living the same onanistic life; isn't it true that we're all in it for the long term goal of gratification? the big pay off? whatever our personal idea of what the "big pay off" is, that's what we're after, yes?
i breathe like a blow fish.heaving my stomach out so that it's big and round like the empty bellies of those children in Africa who are starving--who are breathing their own deaths. i sleep like a baby, waking up at the rudest hours of the night. tossing and turning all night like those old stop, drop, and roll commercials. my doctor says breathing is better than a xanax. all i wanted were some lipstick red seconals. all i wanted was to sleep properly.
i wish someone would keep me in like cancer-the disease that should have died-but i selfishly refuse to selflessly give up my own life.
i've nothing more to say apart from, Rad, expect mail in approximately two mailing days.