The Understanding

Time: 12:51 am

Place: room


I think I understand a little more now. Life is pain. It's sorrow. It's depression. It's love. It's hate. Of course a whole lot of other things that I could list. All that is ever in your life is sadness. People tend to die all around you or feel just the same sorrow. It never lets you just be happy for more than, maybe a day. Life is always going to be a constant struggle, no matter who you are. It's surprising to me that people don't kill themselves more often. I know that sounds morbid, but, its something that you have to wonder about. Why do you continue to wake up in the morning to do the same things. Out of sheer hope that the next day will be better or just the fact that you have to. You have been born into this world and it almost seems like you just have to keep going. Unless, you have the actual balls to actually commit the act of suicide, its just depressing monotony. That's it, people just don't have the balls to kill themselves. Maybe? This may just be me being like fucking Emily Dickinson, that morbid bitch. It also could be me just coming down from alcohol, because they do say that it makes you depressed. Who knows no one will ever truly understand what it is to be human, or how one should feel. I guess that's just one of the mystery's of life.

I sometimes think, when you get to a certain age you realize that living is just annoying. That life sucks when you get to a certain age. I think it would be once you hit middle school. Middle school sucked and it only went down hill from there.

Wow, way for me to be depressing. Hey, well, sometimes it's good to be a little depressing. If you have read most of these blogs, they all seem pretty depressing. I don't know, life is depressing, so I guess, what else would I be writing about. I wish, I could feel more apathetic about things. Sometimes I don't want to feel apathetic at all because I think it's a waste of time.

I definitely need to get another notebook. They're so many things that I want to say but I don't want anyone to think ill about me. I can truly analyze things, knowing that no one will read it and get offended. I mean, I get pretty close to the bone, but I like to use names to help me vent. I can't do that here. In a sense, I like to be sucking on the marrow when I'm ripping something apart. Yes, definitely, this isn't doing enough justice for me. I almost feel "wishy washy". I'm getting close to what I want to say about things, but, it's not therapeutic enough. No more of this, this will just be a place to write fiction stuff and no longer any venting. It's not doing it for me.