Writing

collection of my poetry and short stories

Posts tagged 23
Waves

All my fucks are exhausted today.

Ever sit at the office, bedroom, or park and just stare off into space and think to yourself about all the people you've outgrown? I recently came upon this thought when I started pondering (what I've been doing a fucking lot) on all the people that use to be in my life. Granted a lot of these people I still love and adore from afar but I think I've hit this ceiling of fucks where I can no longer well, give a fuck about their feelings.

And I mean this in the best of ways, really...I do. It's not my lack of love for them that keeps me from caring but my own movement in the world that is keeping me from staying in the same place. I think we've all hit this point in our lives where we are just tired of dealing with the same bullshit and staring at the same shit all the fucking time. I can only look at the Chicago skyline for so long before I get in my feelings about all the places I want to visit, all I people I want to meet, people I could be fucking, and delicious food I could be trying. Home is great, people at home are great, everything is so fucking comfortable and great. But this doesn't make me feel great. And the people who use to make me feel great? Make me feel paralyzed.

But in all reality, it isn't their fault. It's no one fault that life moves in that motion. Life is nothing more than a series of waves. Crashing and cleansing, taking things away and clearing out the clutter to give you another reflection. All in all it sounds beautiful, scary, devastating, and liberating all at once but I'm just kinda drifting on the current. Aware of my new reflection but sad to see the fog of my old self slowly drift back into the open skies. I guess this is what the new life crisis looks like. Like a bunch of hopeful individuals just floating on bodies of water, staring face first into their new reflection.

 

 

Goals Not Plans

I apologize for the lack of posts but as of late I've been super busy readjusting my life to a 9-5 job and trying hard not to die from monotony. So far I've survived with the wonderful help of alcohol and various other methods. But as of late, my good friend Jim Beam is not doing his job. Like dude is fucking up and leading me to horrible fits of feels that ends with me weeping into my Sailor Moon pillow.

Although my girl Sailor Moon has been a great companion, I've come to the conclusion that my emotions and lack of creativity is being drained by my overly planned life. Which is strange cause I hate planning and hate routine. I guess this is what happens when you get a 9-5 job and start to feel the silent but overbearing pressure to be "someone" in the world. So where do people like me go from here? Do I continue on and become this grown up with grown up shit? Or do I try and venture out in the world seeking some truth that is beyond the capabilities of my human body?

Or I could say fuck it cause in reality, there is nothing I could do to make the world feel less heavy. The world by default is heavy from the loads of fucks we give and maybe instead of trying to plan my life around this heavy load, I can choose to well...to not plan at all. Cause in reality, what the fuck is the point of planning? Planning keeps you bounded in a small square of expectations and keeps you from being you in a world of possibility. I would much gather have goals. Goals are fluid, goals are realistic, and goals have no time line. Goals make sense. Plans don't. So in conclusion since I feel like I'm being all preachy, just fuck it.