| what's to say about life. what's to say. writing is not living. breathing is living. but are you alive. what's the purpose. what's lonliness. what's love. what's a secret worth these days. not much more than a competition. what's truth. what's truth worth. friendships. truth is worth life. ha, how can anyone ever get the truth. what's the fucking point of trying. no one ever knows the full story. memory is subjective. life is just a silly struggle. i laugh about it sometimes to myself. i laugh at myself for being so melancholy. oh but it's fun, you should try it. maybe i should throw a party. wry is a good word. just say it it's fun. now run out on your front porch and scream. we all like to think we've got it all figured out. i'm not denying i do it all the time. we assume we understand one another, we know what makes everyone tick. we see their flaws and the seemingly simple solutions they themselves will run franticly over the face of the world trying to find. or sleep away. i don't care if that sentance doesn't make sense. who's reading this anyway. me. fuck grammar. and fuck capitalization. people always say they'll be there for you, but when it comes down to it no one really knows how. they'll say they understand but they won't, they say they care but they don't, they're just waiting for a commercial break to smile and laugh it off. and look at me here with this cop out. not offering a solution, merely rambling on and on to what end? who knows. a sideways glance, a confused eyebrow raised. why don't i just go to sleep. i stay up hoping to stumble across some kind of answer. an answer to something unseen but felt as a dragging void inside me. strange how something empty can weigh so heavy. and i know i'm not alone. being alone and being lonely are two completely different things. i think everyone knows the feeling of being surrounded by people but still completely isolated. so what's the solution, is this the secret to living? |