Pain, pleasure, even indifference. Is that all there is? An empty existence. We only mold meaning through our conpassion and, ultimately, even that is meaningless. Biological machines who are psychologically inept to comprehend reality. Escapades into our romanticized depths our wretched souls have weaved by nothing other then our pain. Truly, our refuge is in our hearts. When that’s tainted we’re defeated.
Only enjoying life is unfulfilling. I couldn’t bear the emptiness of that. So, instead, “what do you do?, you may ask. Truthfully, how should I know? My existence, or all of existence, is obscure and ambiguous for unsound reasons. Accepting everything as it is has finally bored me, yet there isn’t an alternative for me. I’m merely a spectator of this subjective thing we call reality. I get the best form of entertainment from that since people amuse me, mostly when I see them go about their personal lives, especially when they’re so excited about something. They seem so innocent and ignorant. It’s quite warming and it forces a slight smile, usually. Be it a violent or a friendly person, they are both the same in the sense that they’re running amok thinking they’ve found their answer while they’re really just subconsciously confused.
Soon enough, sexual pleasure will bore me, but I’m looking forward to that. I wonder what kind of person I’ll be then.
Music is profound. If music didn’t exist I’d have surely killed myself by now from the ultimate boredom. Like what Nietzsche basically said, life would, indeed, be a mistake without music.
I wonder what uneventful events my future has in store for me. With whom will I intertwine? Jaded spirits? Passionate fools? Cynical intellects? Broken manipulators? It doesn’t matter along as they provide entertainment.