sometimes it gets so bad
that anything else
looking at a bird on an overhead
seems as great as a Beethoven symphony.
then you forget it and you’re back
— Charles Bukowski (via zaahirvault)
—Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus
“One will always find ones burden again.” - Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus
—Albert Camus (via -noona)
—Albert Camus (via gnngoodquotes)
Basically, life is a road of shit with people who are consumed by self concern, and the question has always been and will always be, “What is this all for?”
You know, I’ve realized what’s wrong.
There is nothing. There’s no person to connect with, no one to listen to me, no one that isn’t a two-faced-fuck. I can’t tell my parents about my dreams, I genuinely don’t have real friends, I don’t know any of the 50 billion people at my college.
It’s really no wonder that I feel the way I do; that my thoughts are so hell-ridden.
I spent all of today laying in bed with a migraine and nausea; treating myself to a store of pills and sleep. And of course, only to wake up to a dark, cold, empty room and a stack of homework that I don’t want to do.
I don’t really know what I want. I don’t know what can change this.
This quest for success is tiring; sickening. This idea of becoming someone, doing something. Sitting in cold lecture halls, reading till early morning, failing quizzes, and all around having to function at a higher level 24/7 is incredibly sickening.
It shouldn’t be. I can’t bear entering adulthood. The “real” world. With all these intellects, and psuedo-intellects, and flat out shit heads around me.
I don’t know how to do this.
And I don’t know what it is about it all, but something is uncanny. Something about the idea, the distance between people, the weather, the combination of details that I don’t overlook but probably should. The strange voices, my sleep deprivation, and the expectation that my parents hold of me.
I need to fast forward. I don’t know what to do with all of this that has been thrust into my arms. I am wholly immersed in slow despair.