I realized my posts have been a bit depressing. That just seems to be what comes out when I write/type. This will probably sound a bit melodramatic but it feels like there's a pit in me that doesn't seem to have an end to it and can never be filled or gotten rid of. At best I just put some distance between me and it which I seem to get better at as I get older, but it's always right there waiting for me. It feels as if it's arms are open wide ready to cradle me with it's comfort. I feel at home in my pit of sorrow and misery. My emotional pain and suffering wraps me up like a warm blanket on a cold winter night. It provides the security of familiarity. It's what I know best. But like I said, as I get older I've learn to distance myself and look for what feels good. I feel out of place somewhat and sometimes not sure what to do with myself but I'm getting more and more comfortable with the feeling of being happy. I imagine this makes no sense to other people and I'm glad that's the case. People should find comfort in pleasure not pain.
I type this cause it seems people might be reading what I type and don't want to seem like I'm all doom and gloom. Not sure why I care what others think but I can't seem to help it. I guess it goes back to wanting people to understand me. The whole me, not just the depressing part. Although no one is going to know who I am from a blog. I guess that's one of humanities plights, always wanting to be truly understood, wanting people to truly know who you are. But it's just not possible since no one can experience life in just the same way as you have. No one can see the world through your eyes, through your mind. We seem to be full of so many paradoxes. Well I've become to tired to contemplate the paradoxical existence of humanity so I'm going to bed.