Not that I know anything, but I do think some stuff, sometimes. And every now and then it's useful, to think stuff.
Usually not, but sometimes.
Like maybe every full Moon, like tonight.
Maybe the trick is to look at things objectively. To step outside, then turn around and take a good look at myself and my life.
Objectively, I'm the luckiest man on Earth. I absolutely do not deserve what I have.
So why, I wonder, why do I constantly find myself struggling to stay afloat in this damn sea of sadness that surrounds me?
I don't like that metaphor. It sounded better in my head. Please disregard it.
I've always been, in my deepest core, a pessimist. The worst is what's expected, what's expected is the worst. That's just the way I roll. It's safer that way, I've always thought, when I bothered to think about it at all. Usually it's just been something that is, like my height or my hair color.
Lately, though, I've found myself having hope of all things. For what, exactly, I don't know. It varies. It's always something good, though.
Happiness or some mythical shit like that.
Objectively, I'm the luckiest man on Earth.
Subjectively, I want to crawl into a hole and die.
So, there's a bit of a conflict there. I'm dealing with it, as well as I can.
Mostly by drinking beer, though denial is another important tool. As is this little trick I like to call selective memory.
You know a good way to tell when I'm in a weird mood?
When I start writing a bunch of single-sentence paragraphs.