It's a sad thing when being in the world around supposedly the worldly wise actually roughs up the idealist in you to a point where you become convinced they're right, that the world is all about who can be useful for you, that the world will take advantage of you and suck you dry if you don't build defenses around yourself, that the universe is a wild and random thing you need to invent principles for so you won't go insane.
I'VE BECOME A VERY SAD PERSON, ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?
It was prettier before I met you, people of the world. Everyday I regret ever having opened my heart and mind to you. I had a way easier time believing the world loved me when I had the guts to just keep on offering myself like a fucking doormat. But why is it that that had to be a bad thing? Giving is good. Giving is supreme. But now I will forever carry with me the stigma of knowing. You become old and sad after that. None of it is your fault, people of the world. I just wish I'd been warned. So at least the sting would not have been as acidic.
The risk is pain. Mind-whirling, gut-wrenching, life-destroying pain. But what else is out there in that void of utter suffering? That blank between moments of weakness and moments of actual living it out in the world. Sometimes that's all I live for now. Alt (breathe) Tab. Alt (huff) Tab. Alt ( --- ) Tab. Switching madly from work to family to why the fuck need I be in this universe to love and hopeless hoping and falling in love with an ideal to why did I not shampoo my hair today to wow no more mannequins in the front lobby to dear Lord, take me now, I did not come here to feel such torment.
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