Life is Wonderful

by starkish

just before i was about to write the first sentence of this post, i heard sounds of pawing and mewing coming from the kitchen which from my coordinations is fairly visible to investigate. my cat, woolybear, has ripped/chewed/clawed through her bag of kibbles as if she were on the brink of starvation. and funny, the same kibbles are already in her fish shaped cat bowl. my brows furrowed and i pointed to her with an undertone of menace and growled ‘hey, hey, hey, YOU eat from your fish bowl, NOT from the bag.’ interestingly enough, she mewed once at my direction and silently padded towards her fish bowl and though already out of my visibility range, i could hear her working her way through her cat food.

anyway, the point of this post. i am an ineffable being. i dont understand myself sometimes. i dont understand how to handle emotions except in the most cold and calculative and borderline cruel way. yes it hurts, but dont you think it hurts less when things are segmented, segregated and partitioned? what is it with the intensity  of emotions and feelings towards another human being that leaves you feeling like a dumb fuck? your senses are dull, your  values revised and your constantly on your knees to please. what is it that other people see that i dont? happiness at the end of it? how does that work when it is inevitably going to end up like a fucking train wreck? you know its going to end up like a fucking train wreck. is there some sort of center pull that makes everything so tragic around me? how can things be less tragic when the one you want feels constantly detached from you all the time? how? tell me , tell me how, then ill be less tragic. when can i reach a level of intellectual understanding that can free me from all of this ridiculous forms of emotional torture that warrant writings such as these? i feel superiorly inferior but at the same time angry. why is it that i am only inspired to write when everything feels like a  downhill disaster? maybe its the stress and tension, and the only way of constant emo equilibrium is by writing. thank god for writing then.

do not doubt that i am instantaneously chirpy, random, funny and smart. i am not all disastrously a dumbass emo piece of …. im just not particularly, for lack of a better substitute, lucky in this. maybe this is not for me. maybe i am meant to be this way. am i accepting fate? yes. does that mean i wont try? no. i will try.