To do the dirty work.
Have you ever been inactively Suicidal? Where you wouldn’t do it yourself. But fantasies about getting hit by a car in the parking lot. Or when you hear about people, who probably wanted to live getting kill and wish it had been you.
Like I am not totally in this state of mind, but I feel it approaching again. The feeling of life being this pointless Mondaine shuffle. One task after another. Pointless conversation with people we encounter. The question stands to be answered. …what is the fucking point? What is the purpose?
I paid a bunch of bills today. Took care of some paperwork so I can continue making money the way I want to. Yet there were zero feelings about it. Just hoops and me jumping through them.
The world is going to hell in a hand basket if there is one. In all the movies where alien come to consume our plant and move on to the next, I think, we already beat them to it. We’re almost finished with this one. People are self absorbed and never think beyond their own bubble. We eat, whatever is easiest, we buy, whatever is cheapest, we are consumed with whichever glowing screen is in front of us. People don’t matter, they come and go….and none of them can be trusted. If they have no value, then we treat them as such. Only keeping people around that you find some use for. I am over it. I need something to bring excitement and value back into my life. Make it worth wild because I am tired of it all.
I remember when I use to look forward to when my kids went to their dads. Now I look forward to them coming home. I hate ever moment away from them and I know it won’t be long and they won’t want to be around me anyway. They are the single reason I am still alive.