This is the time of the year that if you haven`t committed suicide yet, you are for sure planning to accomplish it by Christmas. I reckon this holiday season as being too dramatic. We consider and reconsider all the shit we went through, plus the shit we were responsible for. It is pretty intense. The thoughts rush in the crazy traffic of our brains and it is hard to fine them.
We live 365 days in a year to figure out that the next 365 days are not gonna make a dot of difference. I am so fucking tired of the sameness. Gotta jump off a cliff and make a difference in my neighborhood. I am sounding creepy and you are probably right. I ain't gonna try any end-of-the-year project, even though I have considered plenty of them. I am not that selfish nor narcisist for that matter. I still think that others are more important that my creepy being.
My burden is to carry this unselfish perspective of life. Is "unselfish" a real word? I doubt it. Who cares? Who is gonna read this blog post anyway. I have gotta rely on my poetry that I had left it aside for too long.
Pure sadness
Events are drafts
Because life is a game
In which levels are ladders
To reach the impossible
No comments:
Post a Comment
If you want your comment puplished, English writing is required.