(no subject)
Life in a city is so fucking stressful.
Even in the waiting line for a library - you know where you're supposed to acquire knowledge in order to grow and fulfill your inner self, well that's what i thought once upon a time -, broken humanity slams you in the face everywhere you go:
-you've got the stupid teenagers making fun very loudly of the poor homeless guy just in front of him;
-you've got the old man, wiser than anyone, who thinks it's totally socially acceptable to insult you and judge you. And you're mute afterward as always, cause you've been educated to just shut up and smile, so you shut up and, well, you smile;
-you've got the schizophrenic woman who spends one hour terrorizing a couple of black people because well, I'm not sure I know why but she sure had a lot of things to say;
-you've got the scary pervert who come from nowhere, gets really close and when you explain you don't want him to take art pictures of you he begins to run after you in the escalators - and that's only funny afterwards, because the way he screamed was fucked up and make you forgot there was people around;
-and you've got everybody just trying to pretend they're not there, and there's too much noise and just too much, you know, "existence" surrounding you
and there's nowhere you can go. Because you're in a waiting line. Because there are iron walls everywhere around you, and you're stuck. Stuck in this micro-society where everybody hate each other, stuck in the whole humanity business, stuck in your stupid life which is going nowhere, and you're just not trying, even if you could, because as much as you hate where you are, it is comfortable to just wait for the line to take the next step for you.
And you won't move till the end, and the ground will just become nearer everyday, and you'll think you succeed when you'll finally dissolve in it because you avoided to fall when you where higher, and when you would have been able to break the circle.
And what the hell, it's not even 12am, and you deserve this place and you'll make everything you can to keep it.
And you're becoming a theoretical philanthropist and a practical misanthropist - you know like the maid in one of Proust's novel, crying her heart out when she reads the medical description of a disease, though she was unable to give a damn when the pregnant girl was almost dying from the same stuff . And you cry in front of the news but you avoid talking to your sister and you go to the library trying to forget that other people have problems too and that they need you. And when the crowd will lead you forward, you know you'll be alone in yourself and you'll go everywhere you'll be pushed to if only that can make you stay that way.
In other news the end of the year is near, and the failures are repeating themselves all over again.
And you still can't write in a correct english to save yourself, but you keep trying. Because it's easier in this foreign language: nobody will understand you, and you can pretend you're reading someone else's thoughts.
And also, writing this, you've just discover that you're a teenage emo girl on the inside, and that it's time to listen to bright eyes and cut yourself in the shower. 1IfE soooooOOOOOoooooo h4rd!
Even in the waiting line for a library - you know where you're supposed to acquire knowledge in order to grow and fulfill your inner self, well that's what i thought once upon a time -, broken humanity slams you in the face everywhere you go:
-you've got the stupid teenagers making fun very loudly of the poor homeless guy just in front of him;
-you've got the old man, wiser than anyone, who thinks it's totally socially acceptable to insult you and judge you. And you're mute afterward as always, cause you've been educated to just shut up and smile, so you shut up and, well, you smile;
-you've got the schizophrenic woman who spends one hour terrorizing a couple of black people because well, I'm not sure I know why but she sure had a lot of things to say;
-you've got the scary pervert who come from nowhere, gets really close and when you explain you don't want him to take art pictures of you he begins to run after you in the escalators - and that's only funny afterwards, because the way he screamed was fucked up and make you forgot there was people around;
-and you've got everybody just trying to pretend they're not there, and there's too much noise and just too much, you know, "existence" surrounding you
and there's nowhere you can go. Because you're in a waiting line. Because there are iron walls everywhere around you, and you're stuck. Stuck in this micro-society where everybody hate each other, stuck in the whole humanity business, stuck in your stupid life which is going nowhere, and you're just not trying, even if you could, because as much as you hate where you are, it is comfortable to just wait for the line to take the next step for you.
And you won't move till the end, and the ground will just become nearer everyday, and you'll think you succeed when you'll finally dissolve in it because you avoided to fall when you where higher, and when you would have been able to break the circle.
And what the hell, it's not even 12am, and you deserve this place and you'll make everything you can to keep it.
And you're becoming a theoretical philanthropist and a practical misanthropist - you know like the maid in one of Proust's novel, crying her heart out when she reads the medical description of a disease, though she was unable to give a damn when the pregnant girl was almost dying from the same stuff . And you cry in front of the news but you avoid talking to your sister and you go to the library trying to forget that other people have problems too and that they need you. And when the crowd will lead you forward, you know you'll be alone in yourself and you'll go everywhere you'll be pushed to if only that can make you stay that way.
In other news the end of the year is near, and the failures are repeating themselves all over again.
And you still can't write in a correct english to save yourself, but you keep trying. Because it's easier in this foreign language: nobody will understand you, and you can pretend you're reading someone else's thoughts.
And also, writing this, you've just discover that you're a teenage emo girl on the inside, and that it's time to listen to bright eyes and cut yourself in the shower. 1IfE soooooOOOOOoooooo h4rd!