I wish I were just like everyone else, car, place of their own, job that payed well, and not have to worry about the things I do. I wish I weren’t so stubborn or disappointed with how things are turning out, and day by day, they seem to be getting worse. Home life is poison for everywhere else, and no matter how I try to reason things out, there’s not much to do for it.
While I could bore you with the details, the only thing you’ll most likely fixate on is the lack of job, or the lack of my giving you money, so why should I go into detail about much when that’s all you’re wanting me to do, just give you stuff without expecting anything in return. And maybe everything falls apart for a reason, maybe it just wasn’t meant to be, because this isn’t the timeline we get together in, or maybe we’re just meant as lessons for each other to learn?
I dunno, I think a lot about the large picture at play here, and knowing that despite how well I can be doing, my personal paralysis is in the fact that no matter what I try to do to make myself happy,
Between everything going on, trying to find work and realizing very slowly that alone is how things are going to be for a long itme, maybe it’s best that I do something to change the course my life is on, because of course there are larger things at stake here, and my thoughts are just over simplified complaints about the state of being as it were.
Wasting time, or just finding ways of fucking about ain’t really what I’d call anything these days, just a series of moments tied together by the ever expanding concepts that are so beyond our reach that they’re just not even there anymore. The stupid complexity is so vast and underwhelming that even just by trying to be happy, I’m inviting something to go wrong, almost like I’m drawn to fucking my own life up to give osmeone else a chance to better it.
This isn’t to say that I’m saddened or overworked, or burnt out by the things I did, do, or will do, just by the very notion that everything I’m missing out has been a sign from theu niverse, god, or whatever you want to call it as just a bit series of dominoes constantly flailing about.
Maybe you’re in my life to teach me how to let go of everything that I once considered important, and by extension see the person as they actually are, and not just the surface level beauty by which starkly contrasts their actions, words, and deeds. The mentality is kind of confusing, and I don’t know why I have such a hard time doing anything productive, when I’ve just managed to turn from a naturally happy guy to a dude just barely hanging on to anything and letting things deteriorate to a point where shit just falls into place, regardless of what any prior planning actually meant. Maybe this depression is just my natural state of being as getting excited about any kind of plan just results in some kind of multitude of false expectation?
Maybe no matter what, life is always just going to follow the path it does, and no matter how much I improve, I am more or less stuck on the same rail shooter of life I always have been, merely repeating the same pattern over and over again till I eventually lose my mind oover the monotony of it all, that despite the claims of everything has a purpose, what if only some of it does and the rest of it is just filler? Noise that distracts from everything actually important?
Or what if everything i’ve done up to this point has been absolutely pointless? that my attempts at anything signifigant are just momentary lapse in the natural order, and that whatever impulse I have to mitigate the consequences are just minute fractions of a greater whole?
But none of this will translate into anything other than an “Ok” or some gruff short reponse that has nothing to do with the post itself, because you’ve got your focus, and maybe the psychology that you developed is just ingrained to the point where it shouldn’t matter what anyone says. That you figure as long as there’s a possibility of me slipping up somewhere and giving you control of whatever ifnotmation I have on me, that it’s just enough to constantly play with my head like there’s something to be possibly gained from it all.
I could be overthinking things to the point of neutralizing any possible goodwill previous actions have wrought.
I don’t think of much now a days, not much point, the hi, hey, hello phase of things has been rather boring and kaput, and the lack of response or any meaningful conversation has left me wondering if anything actually matter anymore. the compulsive long form message is maybe some futile attempt at getting something, anything from a long since dried sponge, where once there might’ve been passion, but is now a just dry thing.
Maybe i’m meant to die old and alone, forever haunted by the htings I let slip through my fingers and just depleted of any and all optimism, wow, such depressing fucking thoughts from a man who’s constantly getting older and forgetting unimportant crap by the day, maybe death will come for me sooner or late,r and the long dead rambling of what amounts to a fucking man child mentally shitting himself is more or less the funny as hell thing you need to start your day, as friendships bloom in the way that your most accustomed to, just taking advantage of peoples niavete. Or maybe it’s something less then that, that by my attempts at questioning why you choose to stay with me instead of going with any one of the hundreds of others who have everything you’re looking for, does it present me with some kind of broken logic, that if there are others out there better suited to your tastes, why waste your time with me?
In my head, I can’t quite contemplate the meaning of things, to chase someone that doesn’t want to be chased, to be left alone to her own devices, but here comes the lumber fuckwad of a person that can’t seem to get his life together, why not choose someone better? SOme newer, shinier, better and healthier person that you can build a life with?
Love is love, and all I know is that I love you, always have from the moment I laid eyes on you, always will. Everything is temproary, except the memories of those we choose to keep alive in our hearts and minds, and maybe somewhere along the way I forgot that my personal story isn’t worth a damn if I don’t have the prequisites to make myself important, but all I know is that I love you. And I used to be a romantic, used to be happier, used to do a lot of things. And now I’m trying to make amends with a past that no longer works for me, a system of levers and pulleys ultimately meant as busy work.
But I still love you, someway, somehow, I still love you despite my misgivings, complaints, and foggy eyes attempts at being romantic even if they come off as weird or creepy.
I don’t think I’m capable of using anyone, it’s just not in my blood, maybe you’ve already found someone that you can connect with better, that’s okay.
If not, I still love you all the same.
I’m just a very lonesome person, more alone in my thoughts and attempts than anyone can ever really know, and trying to open up is more of a challenge because of my own past heart break. Be patient with me as I am with you.