2005-08-27 - 10:43 p.m.
So, here I sit again with not a fucking thing to write, but desperately feeling the need to.
It's a craving that I can't quite nail down - it's an itch that I can never scratch to satisfaction.
But, this is life, no?
Why is it that in all our bliss, all that we have in this life, we are yet never satisfied to accept and move on? Things are never quite right, even when they are. But I'm generalizing for all of us and I really mean just you. I'm kidding...I mean me. (But how did that make you feel?)
I shouldn't generalize, because I'm sure there are people out there that I are just peachy with the way things are.
I think I could be if I weren't attached to other human beings. I find myself acting unhappy sometimes, because it seems like the right thing to do to make "the other person" feel justified in their unhappiness or dissatisfaction. Do you know what I mean? Do you ever do this?
Like, the two of you might be sitting in a pile of crap and you're thinking, "Well, this really isn't all THAT bad." But the other person starts whining and complaining about how horrible it is, so you say, "Oh yeah, you're right...this just sucks. I'm so fed up with this." And all the while the crap is kind of warm and squishy, comfy even and you have a good people-watching vantage from where you are, but you give it all up for "the other person."
What's it all boil down to, you ask? Just sit in your pile of shit and enjoy life, because...hey...why not?
