I find myself at a crucial point in my life. I find myself very tired with the way I am and the way I have become. I find myself wishing for a chance of pace and a change of scenery.
I already know that I have to get out of my current employment. I mean, I am dying slowly everyday. I am surrounded by people that I find myself unable to relate to. I also find myself performing a task that I do not particularly like. As a matter of fact, I think the only way I could enjoy this job is if I was the automaton they wished I could be.
The only reason I am there is because the hourly compensation I receive for the snippets of my soul I give them affords me the ability to purchase things that can cause me momentary fits of contemptness.
I find myself living in a house that I dread coming home to everyday, in a room I loath, with people I would not miss when they finally expire.
I know things will get better eventually, and I know that things cannot get any worse per se but at this moment I find that there are only two things keeping me from finally hurling a sharp sliver of metal between my eyes at hundreds of miles per hour : the fact that I would hurt others by taking such a selfish action (possibly... I make no assumptions), and the fact that someone would have to "put my affairs in order" afterwards.
Maybe someday my mind will work properly and I will be able to join the rest of this supposed "civilization" in it's blind adoration of small physical woders. Or parhaps there will be some wonder medication that will make me realize that the world really is a shiney happy place and hat the years upon years of isolation and sadness were just meaningless in the grand scheme of happy bunnies and I will be miraculously allowed to enter the golden city of happiness (it's to the left of depressionville... between lustopia and hateland).
Until that moment though, I continue to feel like there is a piece of me somewhere in the world that has not returned to me. I will continue to smile my fake smile and wish that one day I can be happy with who I am and what I have become, knowing full well that I have never *really* been completely happy in my entire life and never will be.
Case in point:
I was called upon to come up with a happy moment in my early childhood and after ten minutes I was finally able to. It was a moment when I was a little child living in Los Angeles. My father, mother, brother and I were at a park and I was playing in a sand lot with some children in a small castle (of sort). Later that afternoon, my father and I threw around a football and he expressed his intrest in me playing football later in life.
My mother happened to be near by when I recanted this to the person asking me and informed me that that had never happened. There had never been a park visit, there was never a castle, and I never threw a football with my father.
I had created the memory myself in an atempt to grant myself a moment of happiness in an otherwise depressing life.
I already know that I have to get out of my current employment. I mean, I am dying slowly everyday. I am surrounded by people that I find myself unable to relate to. I also find myself performing a task that I do not particularly like. As a matter of fact, I think the only way I could enjoy this job is if I was the automaton they wished I could be.
The only reason I am there is because the hourly compensation I receive for the snippets of my soul I give them affords me the ability to purchase things that can cause me momentary fits of contemptness.
I find myself living in a house that I dread coming home to everyday, in a room I loath, with people I would not miss when they finally expire.
I know things will get better eventually, and I know that things cannot get any worse per se but at this moment I find that there are only two things keeping me from finally hurling a sharp sliver of metal between my eyes at hundreds of miles per hour : the fact that I would hurt others by taking such a selfish action (possibly... I make no assumptions), and the fact that someone would have to "put my affairs in order" afterwards.
Maybe someday my mind will work properly and I will be able to join the rest of this supposed "civilization" in it's blind adoration of small physical woders. Or parhaps there will be some wonder medication that will make me realize that the world really is a shiney happy place and hat the years upon years of isolation and sadness were just meaningless in the grand scheme of happy bunnies and I will be miraculously allowed to enter the golden city of happiness (it's to the left of depressionville... between lustopia and hateland).
Until that moment though, I continue to feel like there is a piece of me somewhere in the world that has not returned to me. I will continue to smile my fake smile and wish that one day I can be happy with who I am and what I have become, knowing full well that I have never *really* been completely happy in my entire life and never will be.
Case in point:
I was called upon to come up with a happy moment in my early childhood and after ten minutes I was finally able to. It was a moment when I was a little child living in Los Angeles. My father, mother, brother and I were at a park and I was playing in a sand lot with some children in a small castle (of sort). Later that afternoon, my father and I threw around a football and he expressed his intrest in me playing football later in life.
My mother happened to be near by when I recanted this to the person asking me and informed me that that had never happened. There had never been a park visit, there was never a castle, and I never threw a football with my father.
I had created the memory myself in an atempt to grant myself a moment of happiness in an otherwise depressing life.
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I love you.
ps- happyness does not involve bunnies...