Dear Diary,
Why didn’t somebody tell me that this is life? This ugly, writhing, despicable world where the strong destroy the weak and some people (me) maybe just aren’t meant to live. Everything will be so much simpler if I kill myself. No more unfinished work, no more overwhelming duties and obligations and responsibilities and failures. Why didn’t anyone tell me that the world is like drowning-that it slides down your throat and chokes you until you beg for an end. Why didn’t somebody tell me that some people grow up too fast, that some people break before they bend, that some people just. Can’t. Take. It. Anymore. I can’t bring myself to brush my hair. I can’t bring myself to drink any water (I haven’t had any today) on a daily basis. I should do homework, I should read, I should be productive, I should do SOMETHING. But I can’t. I’m too depressed to do anything but stare out of an empty window and dream about what could have been. What I could have done. What I could have been. What I SHOULD have been. Dear Diary, why didn’t somebody warn me that life is never what you want it to be? That one day I will drop like a mayfly, that nothing that I do will ever leave a mark? All things fade, shrivel, die. Dear Diary, what happened to dreams that come true?
4 comments
For me the gravity of life was like the mythology of Santa Clause. As a child I believed in the ole guy, he brought me gifts, and I loved him for that. Then I got older, and applied some good ole logic to the whole idea of Santa Clause and accepted that my parents were stowing away gifts posing as the fat bastard. Much the same, in my youth I boldly decided to live, I loved life even, but then I learned that life has an unpredictable burden attached to it. A momentum that a single person can’t tolerate alone. A community of peers that aren’t really looking out for anyone but themselves. With that the sheer gravity of life crushed me, but much like the utter let down of Santa Clause being a fictional character I am attempting to learn to live with it. I think even if you are hitting lower lows that there is still a possibility to climb out of the hole life’s gravity crams you into. All of this pain you are experiencing now is a process of learning how to cope with life later on.
Godspeed traveler and don’t drink too many potions!
life might not be what you want it to be, hell it might not even ever be
but life can NEVER be more than you make it,
even if it’s suck, mud and filth, you have to trudge through it, for any chance to reach your little island oasis of sanctuary in the middle of the swamp.
you got dealt a bad hand,
not by some divine or cosmic bully trying to torment you specifically on purpose, but by the cruel coincidence that is chance.
Now it’s up to you to throw that hand back in the dealers face, get up, leave the table, find a game you like and have a better chance at.
you can never win if you don’t play, keep playing for broke, then take out a loan and keep playing til you win.
big small or tiny, everybody wins something at sometime, chance is like that,
as long as you keep taking enough chances.
you might just get the chance to reach that island oasis in your swamp
take it
I hope you’re right, but my luck isn’t very good. 🙂
you make your own luck
by trying again and again,
enough chances at chance, eventually, everybody wins,
might not be what they wanted, but never less than what they needed or could still use
everybody “wants” to win that big “jackpot”, most people don’t realize, even if they “only” win 20bucks, that it might so happen to be, just enough.
maybe you don’t win that jackpot at first: that magic pill that cures all, the great guru with all your life’s answers, that fairytale story and love
but maybe, eventually you get a medicine, coping technique, a beam of moonlight a winters eve, that is just right, just enough to lift you up, if only a tiny bit
maybe you find a plant, a pet, something that you learn to care for, and rewards you in turn feeling good.
maybe on your travels through the swamp, you find a friend, might not be a boats man to sail you through the swamp, but now you are not trudging in the suck, filth and mud, completely alone
maybe you don’t find that fairy tale story and love, you don’t find or get Prince/Princess Charming. Maybe all you find in your swamp is Shrek, but maybe, that’s just enough, maybe just what you needed after all.
It might not be a Disney Fairytale, but it’s still a kind of fairytale right?
You don’t need to “get” luck, make it your self,
try hard enough, try enough chances, you can make everything, even your very own fairytale in the middle of the swamp.
and if not you can always fall back on and be the ogre, yelling and frightening all the villagers,
it’s not half bad sitting on a rock in the swamp, throwing mud and shock and make the villagers run round like headless chickens, what a delightful whimsy sight to behold it is