lorensoth

These brief days where I can relax come and go much to quickly. I keep wondering how long I can keep doing this to myself. Whenever I look around myself I see organized chaos. People living out there lives, trying to cope and understand the world and there lives. But we are all crushed into this so called society, one full of distractions and labor. I go to work five days a week only because I need money, I wake each morning wondering if I will be able to force myself through another day.

Its obvious that a suffer from some sort of depression, it always seems like those around me do it all so easily, but then I hear there conversations, celebrities, television, movies everyone seems so focused on everything else but there own existence. How few seem to wonder what there lives are, what this thing called living is really about.

My grandmother is ninety-three years old, I have known her me entire life and recently she caught pneumonia and is in the hospital. I am more then a little afraid of how she is doing, thinking about her suddenly not being there anymore... no more Christmas or Easters at her house.

To think of her existence being completely gone is fighting, how much she has seen and done over those years, how much everything change. And yet how brief it must have seemed to her... our pasts can be remembered by many of us, we each have a story we are living... but none of us really know what the ending will be like.

I will try and write again soon, keeping track of this life I am living can be tiring.