One of those days. The days when I leave my pocketknife and pistol at home in a timed case and wonder where precisely in my life it all went sideways.
I had times when I coulda gone worse. Defaulted to hating…everyone. I didn’t and thought that was the correct move.
Apathy was comfortable. It still feels comfortable. I don’t want to think about my mistakes. I don’t want to look at my reflection and wonder if anything exists under all these masks.
sorcerer333:
There’s a solace in apathy, but that’s not really sentient life. That’s just a reversion to our primal days. I’ve experienced both, and I’d personally rather take the risk of truly living, and that means getting hurt from time to time. Is a bland existence enough for you, or do you crave more while you’ve got the time to experience it?
trates:
When I was younger I did. Now it seems like surviving to the next leaves me unsure of whether I won or lost. My risks left scars and a lot of dark feelings I deliberately ignore.