Status:EMPTY

But today I forced myself, not allowing any single distractions, before I faced my own thoughts. It was torture. But finally collecting my thoughts, making a list of problems that make me feel bad and even starting my journey of checking some of them off...

Although too many of them are not... well... fixable. I can clean my apartment however much, do the laundry or dishes, yet some things are simply part of me. Fixed in place.

I suppose being like this, like I am, isn't really good for feeling content, it's not even about fitting into society or being overly edgy for whatever reason. There will always be this deep rooted feeling of not being happy where you are, always searching for the next thing or a place that gives you a deeper meaning... at least for a while. But you know inside, it'll all crumble, and ultimately it won't matter at all anymore. It's never permanent.

You know this, yet you still do anything in your power to hold onto it, try to fix it. But for every hole you think you've fixed, another two appear in it's place. Does this mean you'll settle, into a less than perfect spot in life and live out your days? No, you know there isn't anything perfect, yet you can't bring yourself to believe so.

In the shifting phases of clarity and emotional turbulence, you loose all hope, just to analyse where you went wrong, what's wrong with you? Why do all these other people keep finding their place so easily? It makes you think of all the opportunities you could've made something with, ways you could've been like them, but you know it wasnt meant to be that way, what they wanted wasn't you, it was barely even the idea of you.

Because every time you think you got there, finding your happy place, it comes crashing down. Something flips in your head, you're not on the same wavelength anymore. It might work out for a while, but the longer it goes on the more fake you feel. You can't get through to them anymore, your feelings keep bubbling up further complicating it all. All you want is to feel something real, genuine, some manner of understanding to validate who you are. But they don't even know who you are, not like this.

Hah. Haha. No. So you waste away your youth, thinking of ways to find any real reason or purpose to it all. You laugh in the face of those who claim to have a plan for it all. You want to scream out your feelings, but you know not one would care or listen. All you really got is yourself, and fuck. That self keeps changing over and over again.

The doom and gloom may still be with me in spirit yet something is keeping it at bay and I dont know how. I know myself well enough to know it's not solved yet...