What if my entire life, I have lived in vain? My life, without success nor any result. It's something I think about a lot these days. I go to school, I work, I watch some random series or movies on my laptop, I surf the internet, I sleep. I wake up and do the same thing once again. What if this doesn't lead to anything? "The cake is a lie". I used to laugh about that one, but now not so much any more. What if my life is a lie?
I know what I'm writing right now isn't what's really going on, I know my life hasn't been in vain, I know my coming life will not be in vain. But just the thought that one little person could ever mean so much in this entire world, it's improbable. It's highly unlikely. Being optimistic is something I can't afford to be right now, but being pessimistic -or realistic for that matter- is even worse. I know things will get better but right now, I can't even tell the days apart. Who knows what I did yesterday or the day before yesterday. Of course, I know what I have done but when exactly I did those things, I couldn't tell you.
It used to be so easy, it used to be so fun. I had the same life as now, but I talked about it. I talked and wrote and wandered the paths of my own imagination. I lived instead of seeing life pass by. What changed is obvious, but what didn't is less clear. It's as if I just put a veil before myself. I concealed and disguised my thoughts from myself. I didn't want to realise what was missing, what is missing in my life. Sure, I get by but how? Don't ask me.
Once again, what I'm writing now isn't what's really going on. It's not that bad but it's only 10 minutes past midnight and the fact that I'm still awake typing this blog means that I'm overly sensitive to my own doubts at the moment. Late at night, I always start thinking, start wondering where I lost track of what I'm doing. I lost track, that's for sure, but where's that beacon of light that's supposed to bring me back to sense? Why isn't it here in front of me?
I used to know, I used to talk and write about it every single day. I miss that. It's the thing I miss most of all. Once I stopped talking I stopped writing. Once I stopped writing I stopped thinking altogether. And my thinking is the only thing that keeps me alive, really alive. The way my brain works, the way my thoughts intersect and cross each other, (For all you know it alls, I am aware that those two words mean the same thing, but think about this: If they truly meant the exact same thing, why do those two words exist, and not only one of them instead?) it's the way I am. It's the one part that's truly me and I just threw it beyond the veil, into that hidden place in the back of my head where even I can't reach reality.
I miss it. I want it back but I simply don't know how that's possible right now. I guess the universe isn't done with me yet, I guess I have to wait yet another time. I guess it was too perfect to be true..