so i keep deflecting, keep thriving, keeping myself deluded to my own sacred thoughts, keep pushing myself to compound the very same mistake that i should admonish, nothing else is registering in my clouded mind, i am not seeking anything else, i am really dumb-founded, i've become so used to this bullshit that no ever bullshit could tarnish the shittiness that i had become. i've become so maddeningly in love with my own failures, that i grown to feel so god-damn numb and unperturbed to the unproductive being that i have turned into.
i begin to feel that i am now unaccustomed to feel real life experiences, not for the lack of trying, as this had what i have been supposedly doing for almost my whole existency to assuage the subtle feeling that had long gone encroached, and fettered my confused dispirited soul. everything else is so subtle that nothing else seems to matter. you become too unsure even about the most miniscule part of your life, the lines that divides your entire state of mind is now being blurred by such strange subtle force of melancholia. suddenly everything else is so daunting that i wished that i am referring someone else's life in lieu of mine, this is the worst feeling of alienation, severe loneliness that even in presence of others, and even in the most glaring essence of their most grateful comfort,even under the warmth of her arms(which i wish for my own) you still feel that deep inside your sensitive carapace, you still feel awfully lonely, in fact so lonely that the feeling of happiness seems to be beside the whole point of being lonely. iit's so subtle that i feel trapped in the middle of the deep caverns of my own personal abyss. no light could meet my eyes no silver lining to inspire in these dark clouds, no self-help or motivational materials to help and motivate this battered soul of mine.
you hear "emo" but they all are just missing the whole point, and i'm missing my point too, and its not really new anyway, i missed the point too before i even try to keep deflecting and thriving in these non-sense circumstance, and here i am thinking that it's just merely following the heart, and i still think it is, even when your feet's trudges keep on mistiming as your heart skips a beat.
i can never become successful ok, its been written in the wall a long time now (check my facebook too, if you want to double-check which i doubt you will...as my readers is nearing it's inevitable extinction)and sometimes i kind of wished i measured success through the bright colors of a sportscar or the beautiful facade of a new house that i designed myself or lying in a mountain of greener pastures while traveling the whole world, at least i should have known what being successful was, not just merely relying on a fictive idea that somehow should always not involve fancy cars and mansions, and it still feels absurd whenever i touch this kind of ideas. life is absurd, albert camus can attest to that, which somehow feels that everything is just gray areas nothing is definite, even the most definite is not definite enough to be definite because somehow you can;t explain it's definiteness. this is what i am feeling now, i feel nothing is definite even this one. and i am still missing the point i guess, or maybe i am just creating my own bullshit. this feeling of almost nothingness led me to somehow want to feel a near death experience or some reminder of how unfulfilled life is regretful, i want that experience where your whole life flashes right in front of you, in a lucid and frantic way where its repetitiveness and ineptitude starts to wear your spirit out, where reality, in its most painful reminder, reminds you of what you've been missing all your frigging life , just to know i am still typing this and that something is really worth it, even in my emptiest feeling of absurdity.
damn writing these kind of shits is really awkward, damn, i can't really type anymore, this is all that i could do, fuck it, and my dreams of trying to be even just a quarter of charlie kaufman is still lingering in my mind, now choking and haunting me. reeling about the life i had lost because of some lost cause ambition, even though i still won't forgive my self if i ever become a computer science major, i rather have my disintegrated soul intact while i dance with my failed ambitions, rather than to be ingeniune i rather feel geniunely pretentious. i swear upon every words sang by david byrne that i will keep on deflecting, thriving, and keep on being deluded even if the song "once in a lifetime" starts penetrating my pair of fake earpieces, no i will keep on doing every horrible thing even if i become less and less relevant in this society that i feel i am unwelcome. and hopefully someday even when i'm only a hermit crawling in your lovely shoes i will finally not miss the whole point, the same way that hopefully you will, too.
Just be real. Confident. Isn't that what women are attracted to? Men don't have to be attractive. But that's not true. Especially these days. Almost as much pressure on men as there is on women these days. Why should I be made to feel I have to apologize for my existence? Maybe it's my brain chemistry. Maybe that's what's wrong with me. Bad chemistry. All my problems and anxiety can be reduced to a chemical imbalance or some kind of misfiring synapses. I need to get help for that. But I'll still be ugly though. Nothing's gonna change that. *
damn my incoherence, blame my stream of conciousness. and the talking heads too.
*adaptation