All this reading can get someone down really quickly. It's funny because I don't like to be alone, but I find myself most comfortable that way. It's just easier not to have to say the things I'm thinking out loud. It's probably better that way too because I don't have to watch the things I say--I don't have to be careful about what does come out of my mouth.
I really, really, really, really want this black kitty--I'm going to meet him on Friday. If things go well I think I'll take him home. I didn't understand how much I wanted a kitty until the exact type and kind I wanted appeared right before me. I was just thinking, okay, you caught me, I've been thinking like all day about this, but I was thinking about all the things that would be just a little bit less lonely if I had a kitty here with me. You know, maybe not someone, but something to just sit here and be alive with me in my room. That would be nice. That would be beyond nice for me. It would be beyond enjoyable. And maybe it's the change I need in my life right now to make me stop feeling so uncomfortable. Maybe it will make me stop wanting to get the hell out of here the first moment I can. Right now, I just feel like I have all semester. I feel like I'm not doing what I'm supposed to be doing right now. I feel like everything is wrong. Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! I feel like I do the same thing day after day and it doesn't make a difference to anyone. I want to get out and do something I find productive.
It's like I feel like there is someone else inside me entirely and I could be so much better of a person. I could actually do things. But I lack the ambition. I lack the happiness. The confidence in myself to believe I could actually do something worthwhile in life. There's so much I should be capable of, but I just feel too tired to even begin to try to accomplish it. I don't know. Maybe I'm just lazy.
I wish to God I was passionate about something in my life. It just seems like the dull drone of life has gotten so montonous that I can't get myself out of the rut I dug for myself. I just want to care about something. But nothing strikes my interest enough or for long enough for me to actually want to take a stand for something. And so, I come home to my apartment everyday. Too weary to go anywhere else. I sit here and I do my homework and I read my books, and I wonder how my life would have been different had I chosen a different path. Not that another path chosen could have made me any happier. I highly doubt that.
So, here I am...another day over and with nothing to show for it again. If only something mattered to me. If only anything mattered. It makes me wonder if anything ever did matter to me when I was little or if I was just going with the flow of things, unable to think for myself and so I just floundered around walking in the direction I was pushed. I had no ideas separate from what I was supposed to be doing. Somehow, when I had no other idea of how my life should be, I think I was most happy. I guess one could call that innocense in its purest sense. So, was I better off then? Or now? Who's to know? Either way. I need to get back to work...
sweeter dreams
**k
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Finding a passion isn't all its made up to be.
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