Monday, May 28, 2007
- Tranquility at its best. -
Don't know what to say what to think what to feel.
It's times like these again, where I have many things to blog, but cannot start it off. Cannot think of how to put it. I'm listening to Michael Buble. Feel like I should be drinking wine to it as well.
Tonight was my last shift at Emperor's Court. Bitter sweet. Why is my life bitter sweet? Is your's as well? I don't want to write about the same things over and over. It's tiring even for me. But it's the default when my mind is in a mess of thoughts.
Why me? WHy us, we ask. We ask whom? Who can help us? Who can save us? I know by now we definitely cannot rely on Marvel comics. But why me? Is it what I choose? Is it my karma? What, WHAT? At least tell me why. But life never does. 'Why?' is a non-existent question and I wonder who the faghole was who created this word, if it could never be answered.
When will I get over this stage? This stupid , emotional, teeny bopper life that I lead.
I just killed a fly and it's lying dead on the desk in front of me while I'm typing away at the computer. I killed it with an elastic band. And I watched it twitch until it could twitch no more and it laid there it complete and utter. Stillness.
Tell me that's not sick. Tell me I'm not fucked.
It's times like these again, where I have many things to blog, but cannot start it off. Cannot think of how to put it. I'm listening to Michael Buble. Feel like I should be drinking wine to it as well.
Tonight was my last shift at Emperor's Court. Bitter sweet. Why is my life bitter sweet? Is your's as well? I don't want to write about the same things over and over. It's tiring even for me. But it's the default when my mind is in a mess of thoughts.
Why me? WHy us, we ask. We ask whom? Who can help us? Who can save us? I know by now we definitely cannot rely on Marvel comics. But why me? Is it what I choose? Is it my karma? What, WHAT? At least tell me why. But life never does. 'Why?' is a non-existent question and I wonder who the faghole was who created this word, if it could never be answered.
When will I get over this stage? This stupid , emotional, teeny bopper life that I lead.
I just killed a fly and it's lying dead on the desk in front of me while I'm typing away at the computer. I killed it with an elastic band. And I watched it twitch until it could twitch no more and it laid there it complete and utter. Stillness.
Tell me that's not sick. Tell me I'm not fucked.
-{ missing you 5/28/2007 12:20:00 am }-