Blargh
I hardly know where to start... this feels like its already going to be a rant...
I remember the reasons for which I came back, maybe I'm just slow to get to them, too fast for the surroundings, wanting things to work more quickly; since that talk oh so long ago, I haven't really considered patience a virtue. Yet, I feel like I at least partially what I want out of life and coming back here hoping to find at least some of it may have been a little naive. I'm already coming to dead-ends, running myself into a corner without an exit strategy, lost and without a plan. I try not to have expectations, but it really is almost impossible not to, and now that I've been faced with mine I've really started looking at how things measure up.
This country is the same, yet again, as how I left it. Another public spectacle for their focus and attention, a simple attempt at quelling a feeble mind from doing anything other than exactly what it is told. The more I learn the less I want to be here and the more I want it to tear itself apart. I see the attempts at change, a straggler crawling, grabbing at the beast and stabbing it with a pencil as it chuckles and kicks down some scraps. Is the underground ever really underground, or do the powers that be just allow it to exist in its menial form as yet another tool for outlet of the frustrations of those desiring to truly act? I can't think of the last time I heard of someone doing something of any consequence, except for growing food. And the more I learn the more I despise the rules and regulations built into this fucking system meant to keep a few lifted up and all the rest conveniently under their boots, struggling to merely breathe. Money being the name of the game and nothing else ever mattering, I'd rather not touch a single dollar of their filthy stuff. And with less and less of it, I'm getting more and more creative.
Yet here I am again, examining the beast from within its stomach, swallowed whole and allowed to ponder...
Door A just exploded in my face
Door B is that same ol pipedream a long ways off, but...
Door C puts my nuts in a vicegrip and demands me to committ myself in the all-but-most-masochistic situation
and Door D conveniently sits just out of my grasp of contemplation
And that one pillar whom I've been easily able to have some foundation with seems more elusive and wary than ever before.
Makes me wonder how hard I'm trying to hit bottom, and whether its really all its cracked up to be.
I even feel like this is going nowhere.
I remember the reasons for which I came back, maybe I'm just slow to get to them, too fast for the surroundings, wanting things to work more quickly; since that talk oh so long ago, I haven't really considered patience a virtue. Yet, I feel like I at least partially what I want out of life and coming back here hoping to find at least some of it may have been a little naive. I'm already coming to dead-ends, running myself into a corner without an exit strategy, lost and without a plan. I try not to have expectations, but it really is almost impossible not to, and now that I've been faced with mine I've really started looking at how things measure up.
This country is the same, yet again, as how I left it. Another public spectacle for their focus and attention, a simple attempt at quelling a feeble mind from doing anything other than exactly what it is told. The more I learn the less I want to be here and the more I want it to tear itself apart. I see the attempts at change, a straggler crawling, grabbing at the beast and stabbing it with a pencil as it chuckles and kicks down some scraps. Is the underground ever really underground, or do the powers that be just allow it to exist in its menial form as yet another tool for outlet of the frustrations of those desiring to truly act? I can't think of the last time I heard of someone doing something of any consequence, except for growing food. And the more I learn the more I despise the rules and regulations built into this fucking system meant to keep a few lifted up and all the rest conveniently under their boots, struggling to merely breathe. Money being the name of the game and nothing else ever mattering, I'd rather not touch a single dollar of their filthy stuff. And with less and less of it, I'm getting more and more creative.
Yet here I am again, examining the beast from within its stomach, swallowed whole and allowed to ponder...
Door A just exploded in my face
Door B is that same ol pipedream a long ways off, but...
Door C puts my nuts in a vicegrip and demands me to committ myself in the all-but-most-masochistic situation
and Door D conveniently sits just out of my grasp of contemplation
And that one pillar whom I've been easily able to have some foundation with seems more elusive and wary than ever before.
Makes me wonder how hard I'm trying to hit bottom, and whether its really all its cracked up to be.
I even feel like this is going nowhere.