What makes us unique?
See I’ve been of the opinion lately that so many of us are so driven to be different, to be unique or special, that we end up being nothing, that the stress of it all grinds us down until there’s nothing left but a mindlessness.
I feel that way a lot these days, mindless. As if I’m stumbling through life just to get through it, as if the challenge isn’t in life but somewhere else. It’s not.
I surround myself with some rather amazing people, and I’m proud and happy of that fact. If I meet someone, like them initially, and then something happens, I just don’t spend time with them anymore. Simple as that.
Maybe that’s cold. I don’t necessarily think so. I think that life is so short that you shouldn’t surround yourself with anyone, or put up with anything, unless it or they bring you some sort of joy.
Catalyst. Change. Because we have nothing else to strive for, and because without it we live in nothing.
And so here’s really my main point… my modus operandi, my fate my test my life my existence my pattern my island my point my path and my meaning in life. To find what I need to be okay.
Because things are hard. They are, they absolutely are. And there isn’t anything to change them but me. Every once in a while i get up at four am and break down and just scribble out notes and pages and pages and the other day I picked up my planner when I was feeling especially despondent and read a note that said:
“Remember, fate is a fickle, fickle bitch, but the player is always in charge of the game.”
I live for other people, and that wouldn’t bother me so much if it seemed like that wasn’t appreciated. I just feel overlooked, which is a hard thing. Then my mind and emotions turn on themselves and I look at myself as a young pathetic Willy Loman, who wants nothing but for just a little attention to be paid.
I’ll be okay, I always am in the end. I just sometimes feel like I’m wasting myself.