Is this all there is? We are made of stardust...literally and our lives reflect none of the grandeur from once we came. At least mine doesn't and fuck you if yours does. The tears come streaming down my face uncontrollably and the anger wells within my chest from such a deep and ancient place. I am made of more so why can I not make more out of the time I have? BECAUSE I'M STUCK CHASING MONEY, FUCK! I'm fuckstuck. Saving, spending, earning, drivingmyselfintoanearlygraveofbrokendespair. Also I must constantly worry about getting older, which diseases to avoid catching, getting hit by asshole drivers, paying attention to the inane chatter that is every other persons pastime, and spiders. The spiders here are really big and aggressive looking. I don't want to be cold. I don't want to be mean. It would feel so good to be mean at someone though. Just in a moment of pure release, be absolutely heart wrenchingly cruel to someone.
Is this all there fucking is?
This is not the life of my dreams. This is the life of people who live their dreams, have nightmares of. I'm disappointed all the time. ALL OF THE TIME. Even when participating in awesome stuff that spawns creativity or imagination or sexy time...I can't help thinking about what's wrong with the conversation next to me, or how much money I should not be spending on lunch, or when someone I love dies, how destroyed I'll be. I wake, waddle to work, wait my turn, worry, waste time, worry some more, wreak havoc on my weakened spirit, wince at stupidity, wile away the hours watching life unfold for others, rinse repeat.
It breaks my heart to know I'm nothing.
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