he knew he would never find the answer. he knew she would never tell him. he knew he would still futilely try and get her to give him the answer. it would never happen but what if she finally relented? finally allowed him a glimpse of herself, a reason for why everything had happened. he knew she would never give away any part of herself.
all my life i have made decisions and all my life i allow these decisions to make me suffer. why did i not so this? why did i not do it that way? i should have left before it got that bad. why do i allow myself to suffer this way? do i enjoy it, well i just said i suffered so i obviously cannot enjoy it but i keep doing it. why can i not stop it. now i suffer based on my suffering. my suffering is causing me to question the needs of my suffering. i want to break the cycle. how do i break the cycle? carrying on cannot be healthy? or is this what everyone does? do we all suffer like this? is this human condition? am i alone and only imagining others do this so as to not feel totally alone? if all our consciousness does is cause us to suffer, why did we evolve it? do animals do this? is there an ameba somewhere wondering if it should have gone that way? is there a squirrel doubting that it has been busy enough storing nuts for winter? is there a cow wondering if it filled in its tax return properly? is this all life is. we make decisions and then we suffer because of them?
is this life?
i spend all my time wondering as i wander along the road of life. i make mistakes, i never truly learn from them. i hate the idea of love but at the same time i am a hopeless romantic.
i create my own myth in my head, reality never lives up to it. i then stand there alone and confused and wonder where it all went wrong. it never went wrong, it was never going there in the first place. i can not seem to read situations or people, i get it all confused.
this confusion building up and adding to the myriad of problems i see. i try and be a better person but this just makes me feel used. perhaps i was used but i allowed it to happen to me as i built a myth in my head. how do i bring these myths down with destroying myself or those around me?
i can not. i turn and run, hide away and hope it will fix itself. it never does and i end building another myth to allow myself to carry on, never fixing the root of the problem. the root will always find another way to grow anyway, so why delve deep into my psyche and sort myself when i can build a new life, it may not be real, it may all come tumbling down but just now it is all i have.
i hold on and start to lay the bricks.
It is all a game. A game we will lose. We need to admit that humanity has made a mistake and love does not exist. We feel it but only in a transient passage, it comes and then it fails. The best idea is not to get caught up in its tangled web when it appears. Admit it and all you really want to do
Admit it, all you really want to do is own the person. You want them to belong to you. They are a good, a commodity, something you want but like all wants it will be satiated the minute you get it, once you have it it will be gone and you will be left with guilt. Why then would you want to carry this guilt until the day you die? Why do you allow it to grow? You are not being true to yourself, do you honestly believe it will last?
It will never last. It never does. We are fed a romantic notion in order to sell us goods, keep us placated. You need to be an adult and have a loving family relationship. Do we need that? Do we need to hinge our happiness on another person? Marriage seems a doomed concept. Separate rooms, mortgage, and a feeling of constant of loathing, that is not loving. It is also not quite hate, it is a human made condition.
Life, we all want to survive or so we are told. Many of us don’t though. Today I am facing a void, another night spent thinking about the futility of my existence and why do I try. I spent the whole night wondering why I want to burden people so. My existence is a burden.
It is weight and an issue for people I know. I don’t want to talk and the more you tell me to talk, the less likely I am to do it. I want to be alone, I like the dark. I can not face being social now, I have tried it and it eats at me. All I can do is sit and scroll through internet articles, waiting until I can go home. Willing the time to pass, worried that I seem weird by existing. I sit and blend into the scene, let everyone else have a great time and maybe they will think I am loving being out.
I am not but don’t be weird, don’t make it weird. They all know I am weird. Everyone is looking at me, am I narcissistic? I shouldn’t care, I do care but I shouldn’t. Why are they looking at me, why talk to me? Please don’t talk to me, I can’t cope, I think slower, I talk slower and I can’t say what I want as I am too slow. The time has passed. Am I still here?
I don’t want to be here. I want to be in a room by myself and with nothing, nothing I want nothing, the trueness of nothing. No pressure, no need for acceptance, just escape. How do I escape, there is only one true escape. The judging that would come, would my soul escape that? Do I have a soul? I doubt it but would an eternity of this pain be worth the temporary escape? Would it be worse, could it be worse?
Today was full of joy, feeling that I had a created a piece of art the problem is, it is really niche. It will never appeal to more than a few people but is that a reason to stop or more motivation to create.
I will then only be creating for my own enjoyment, creating my own vision, my own hopes and fears, and it will never be tainted by being a commercial enterprise. Yes, I would love to make enough money to live and I am also not one of those people who believes that people can sell out. All they did was try and make their life better and grasp a chance someone gave them, the idea then that a sell out is a bad person just bemuses me.
Surely going to a job you hate every day just to scrape a meager existence is also selling out or does this idea only apply to celebrities. Whatever we do we are ultimately selling out unless we have come from a super privileged background.
So today I took two tracks that I had partly made for my band, and by merging them together pulled together a track that for myself is better than the two separate parts. It is one of those joyful moments in which you feel you can take over the world, I probably can not take over the world though. Nor would I want to, have you looked at the state of it? It’s fucked.
No doubt tomorrow I will have changed my opinion on this track?
In the mean time have a picture.
Writing it used to be an escape and it still is but now the words never come. I wonder if the battle against depression and my other issues have stolen them? Will they ever come back or are they merely hiding and will presently bring themselves to the fore.
In the mean time, I have been investigating music again
It is probably ironic that I am doing this as my writing took over from my music when I started to go deaf, which fed into my depression, so is this a case of history repeating itself or as good a coping mechanism as I can find?
Words they are funny, they are everything, your life, your memories, your existence, and then you lose them.