Taken in context
It’s not a bad thing
But when you start to pick it apart
It gets so depressing
It’s that sort of thing
That makes you think too much
It’s that sort of thing
That makes you lose your objectivity
So, if you made it
Just be glad that you did and stay there
If you ever feel loved or needed
Remember that you’re one of the lucky ones
And if it’s over
Just remember what I told you
It was bound to happen
So, just keep moving on
There’s no perfect endings
You peel back the layers
And get down to the inside
But sometimes you lose sight
Of what it was you were trying to find
And it’s that sort of thing
That makes you think too much
It’s that sort of thing
That makes you lose your objectivity
So, if you made it
Just be glad that you did and stay there
If you ever feel loved or needed
Remember that you’re one of the lucky ones
And if it’s over
Just remember what I told you
It was bound to happen
So, just keep moving on
There’s no perfect endings
No perfect endings
Thinking back on the way things were, I really was living with my eyes closed. My loyalty basically made me blind to anyone else who existed. Now, it seems like I’m very aware. Which is good, and bad. It was much easier just knowing the way your life would be, now I’m not so sure. Its all very confusing to me.
Trying to find songs I’ve written over the past year… found a short poem I wrote back in April.
On a cold April morning
he summoned his remaining strength
rose to his feet
and quietly slipped into madness
he lost himself in her
he went with no struggle
he went with no fear
he simply went
never to return
I’m convinced that either the world is crazy or I am, and considering I’m the only one that I cannot categorize into the world I guess its me. I have never felt less inspired, less ambitious, less happy, less free in any part of my life. Apparently the late David Foster Wallace and I seem to share the same feelings “lonely on a level that cannot be conveyed … Everything is part of the problem, and there is no solution. It is a hell for one.” – once again, further pressing on the fact that anyone like me has all ready come and gone. I write freely here because I can. I write without fear of what people will think or say, because frankly either way – I don’t care. This site serves as a public archive of my thoughts and feelings, and while to assume that I am like an ice berg is extremely accurate – I will never feel comfortable in showing everything… Frankly, I don’t owe it to anyone. Those who I think deserve to know these things do know, or will know. I do what I can just to make the days go by. Everything I ever trust breaks my trust, and anything I ever believe in lets me down – which results in the final and probably one of the most harshest and honest statements I’ve ever publically put out. I do not completely trust anyone, nor do I believe in much of anything at all. The few things I still manage to have some beliefs in I will keep to myself as most of them are very cynical. I’ll try to appease my visitors more in future posts, if anyone is left.
It’s interesting when the person who made you more miserable than anyone else in the world says you’re sad and they can help when the last thing you want is to even think of them anymore. If there were someway I could wake up tomorrow and forget that existence I would pay an obscene amount of money for it. How fucked up do you need to be to tell someone you hate them, destroy everything they care about, stomp all over their dreams – and then when it is convenient for you go back and try to talk. Even worse is trying to talk and lying when you do talk. I don’t want to be a liar, I don’t want to associate with them, and I don’t want to associate with people who only think of themselves and lose sight of things that actually matter to pursue superficial flings in lieu of my absense. Unfortunately, the nature of my job now is that I will not always be there. It sucks for me just as much, believe me – but somehow those things would have never even been a thought in my mind. I know I made a promise to never leave, but did it even occur to her that I didn’t? She did. I have nothing more to say about that. I couldn’t even bare to hug her after the things she’s done, knowing that some deadbeat and mentally inferior waste of a multicelled organism was with her the way I was.
My head hurts.
Good night.
Oh, and maybe I’m not happy – but maybe that isn’t what I’m here for.
