"Elegance" is sissy and prissy, men don’t use this word to describe their things to describe their thngs
when there’s a group of your friends hanging out and youre like trying to join the conversation but dont know how
It’s one of those nights. Those ones where the listlessness I was feeling in the day prevents me from sleeping at nightfall. It’s at times like these that i remember all the reasons I hate that humans have to sleep to survive. Of course it’s also times like these that worries assail me when I close my eyes. For once let me think happy thoughts when this happens but it doesn’t really work like that does it? I’d most certainly be asleep if it did.
Wanting to scream and shout and let it all out doesn’t do justice to the frustration that is the root of this mess. Sometimes I find it a bit pathetic that i write these things and that one day when I’m far along in my life it’ll bite me in the ass or someone will deliberately use what I write against me. All the same for the time being no one can reasonably call me out on whatever I write since if one doesn’t like something or someone, one will not go to his someones blog to simply to criticize somethings that appear in someones private but public thoughts. It’s a free country right?
Now we might as well get to the mushy stuff about me feeling a deep frustration, maybe a bit stuck, a whole lot of confused and a sprinkle of trepidation about the future of my life. I keep trying to find out when I can about what my mentors were doing and their state when they were my age and it all sounds like it was simpler. It might not have been at their time but that’s the way it sounds now amd even though I feel like, I’m more far along than that it doesn’t make me any happier to know that.
There’s just so much input to process and deal with and those external conditions dont ever relent. How oh how the fuck do people pretend to handle this type of crap for years on end, in the face of their wives, mothers, children, husbands, siblings friends and plain random people?
Here’s a morbid note to end on. Assuming most people die shortly after they reach 80 then I have about 60 years to live. In that time I have to work for some time, get married, have kids, raise the kids, retire, and be around for my kids kids to show up. Twenty years on this rock, 2074 here we come.
My, years are such fleeting things aren’t they.