Monday, April 11, 2016

Contradicting contradictions

I struggle sometimes to think what things I actually love and enjoy. Some days it's video games, some days I love travelling, sometimes it's reading, writing, or whatever. It's a painful way to live, because something you genuinely enjoyed yesterday might not give the same satisfaction today, or tomorrow, or the day after it, and so on.

I'm no planner. I wing things almost every day. What I decide to do tomorrow cannot be said before I go to sleep tonight. I've always been that person. I'm a huge pile of mess, and I know it, and I'm living it, and I don't give two shits about what people think of it. Then again, here I am at the age of 23-something, still breathing, while I'm not too sure about living. 

Sometimes I wonder, is all this worth it? I have a huge planner in front of my desk in my bedroom here in Wellington. There are some jottings on it, but I haven't updated them in like a week or so. I have a large collection of video games in my Steam library, and there are games that I haven't even started playing yet, and then there are some that I don't even plan to play ever. I have mementos of the places that I traveled scattered everywhere. I have books lying around, pieces of paper that have writings on them, but most days nothing seem to matter.

Fuck this is depressing. I'm much calmer now than I was a few months ago though. In fact, I don't even think I've felt this calm in fucking years. I quit the world. It's as though one day I was looking down at all the bullshit that's around everywhere and I just went "fuck all of you", gave a middle finger, and just dug a cave at a side of a mountain, living off the teats of nature and all of its greenery. It's like my whole existence just looked in a mirror and said "fuck it" and enjoyed the ride instead. 

So what's the price of all this, I wonder? Because if I know something about what the fuck life is, it's that everything comes with a price. Truthfully, I don't care. If I die a horrible death, I die. Who even dies gracefully anyway? It's death. There is absolutely nothing graceful about it. For now though, I can be certain about something; I'm having the best time since I can even remember.

***

While I was writing this, I suddenly had the urge of looking through my Facebook photo gallery. I saw an old photo of me, and I looked happy. Then I saw some more. Then I decided to write this little bit after the three asterisks above because why not? 

Why, you ask? 

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