7 Billion People All Alive at Once

there are probably better ways to write down how i feel tonight. make a cup of decaf coffee, slump in the fidgety couch, stare at the tv, think nothing if not all about the day ahead. i feel involuntary and superfluous as if this life has always been about a ship sailing towards the wind as it awaits its monumental sinking. i am not sad though; these gaping perforations flowering on the surface of my skin have just succeeded in making me feel emptier. emptiness is worse than sadness, that i've learned long ago.

at nights, i look back in silence. these brief processions on my mind strum the strings of my heart so i still have this vague remembrance of how to feel. i see everything so vividly but they are delusions to me as i speak. they happened long ago, how can i call them reality?

i have this really crazy super scary what-if: what if one day i can no longer differentiate reality from dream?
what if i get stuck in the world i've built my own self?
would i not feel empty by then?
all my ideals and desires are within hand's reach?
there would be no suffering and no pain?

but building such a majestic world would require all of me, right?
so, it's right to conclude that as soon as suffering and pain go away, i am empty?
and that in the state of reverie, we are actually pores, hollow and unnecessary, bored through sedimentary rocks?

you lose yourself when you escape from this sad and confused world.



this song is the best@%$#^!#@$#@!!!. when i'm sick and dying, i will play this on loop until that final moment. i'd die so freakin' perfect and blissful. forevazxzxzxzxz