Here I am writing again about how much of a miserable life I have. I’ve always used to say that venting can be therapeutic. It’s my blog’s slogan! But this has slowly been becoming my runaway space where I can blindly write without any grammatical restriction. It’s only words. Words that flow in my mind. Words I feel like writing without caring about who is going to read or what would the reader think.
I’ve always been the caring kind. I don’t know if I can keep on with this, or just give up and start a life of plastic feelings, plastic emotions, plastic facial expression and body language, Plastic everything. Very similar to Barbie world.
I’ve been suffering from writers block for a very long time. Probably the longest I’ve ever lived so far. I don’t really know if I’m having writers block anymore or if I ever had it from the beginning. And here I am again, writing about writers block yet still complain about having that. Weird.
Music doesn’t comfort me anymore. Nothing does. I don’t know what it is but I’ve reached this level of apathy where I can’t be bothered to do, say, or feel anything for anyone at all. Whatever the reason might be.
I have no idea if this is good or bad. I know I’m changing. I know I have been. But it’s not the way I want to be. Moreover, it’s nothing I can control anymore. I know life is all about ups and downs. I know life isn’t what we always want. I know what you all are going to say. I know what you’re thinking of as you’re reading this. I’ve tried it too. It didn’t work.
I wish I know what triggered this change. I’ve been looking deep into my soul trying to find out what’s causing all of this but I just can’t find out the reason why. I’m still looking. I didn’t give up yet. I never will. But it’s becoming exhausting to the point I can’t even bother look into it anymore. I’m twisted because one side of me is telling me to give in but on the other side I want to know what has happened and why is it happening and stop it.
I look around me and I see sad people. Torn between work and poverty. Look the other side and see happy people. Big bellies and fat legs and arms laughing loudly. I look at myself and I see nothing. Absolutely nothing but utter darkness surrounded by absolute apathy.
I listen to music with lyrics I don’t understand trying to find myself in a word I don’t know the meaning of or even how to spell it.
Full of emptiness I am. Or rather, I’ve become I’m afraid. Fishing in the Dead Sea.
PS: I finished writing this post and I swear I have no idea why am I writing this or what is it about. I’m sorry if you end up confused because I am too.