I woke up this morning and found horrible scrawls strewn across a piece of paper on my bedroom floor.
In the middle of the crude drawings and cryptic motifs of over-indulgent existential introspectivity was a clear message.
It read as thus;
For Your Enjoyment:
Don't you go telling yourself that what is shown is true reflection of anything's worth.
It might be. But it's probably not.
The more you deflect and antagonise the joke, the more you become a part of it.
The only reason anything matters (not everything does) is because nothing matters.
Don't you feel so much better now?
I know I do.
And upon reading this, I did feel better. And I feel a great joy inside of me. A healthy lusting that I regularly feel is missing.
The question of whether our time living is long or short, or both, is immediately answered fully and at the same time rendered totally irrelevant.
What a way to move forward. What a way to suddenly feel. What a way of living and loving and understanding everything while knowing nothing.
It's not the normal way, it's probably not the right way, but it's the best f**king way I could ever hope for.
You have your fits, I have my fits, but feeling is good.