Modern Times

That was the trouble with being a writer, that was the main trouble -- leisure time, excessive leisure time. You had to wait around for the buildup until you could write and while you were waiting you went crazy, and while you were going crazy you drank and the more you drank the crazier you got. There was nothing glorious about the life of a writer or the life of a drinker.
- Charles Bukowski

smiley

It did help, helped a lot. I feel a lot.. lighter. Never in my life have i had so many feelings bottled up inside of me at once, it's not healthy.

Pretty day with nothing to do, and nothing to do anything with.
I'm so depressing..

Too much

Normally writing helps me feel better but I think this time it might fail me. Nothing is making me feel better at this point, probably because I've never felt so fucking low in my entire life & to be honest I really don't know why i feel like this. I've been extra drunk before and embarrassed myself so that shouldn't be bothering me and truth be told the way things have ended up with him is actually the way i wanted things to end up and I've come to terms with the fact that I might be losing a few "friends" here. So I don't know why I feel like this. I can't figure out this feeling that's been bothering me all day, I don't even know if it has a name, but its making life rougher then it needs to be. It's causing me to think too much, and that is never a good thing for me. In the past thinking has brought me only to more problems. And to top it off its raining just to rub it in my face. These lights I'm surrounded by are showing me all the opportunites out there, whispering to me about everything good in this city. But i choose to sit in my apartment and let this single fenêtre block out everything.

I still don't feel much better, but I really fucking wish you were here.

Just browsin'

“ does it break my heart, of course, every moment of every day, into more pieces than my heart was made of, i never thought of myself as quiet, much less silent, i never thought about things at all, everything changed, the distance that wedged itself between me and my happiness wasn’t the world, it wasn’t the bombs and burning buildings, it was me, my thinking, the cancer of never letting go, is ignorance bliss, i don’t know, but it’s so painful to think, and tell me, what did thinking ever do for me, to what great place did thinking ever bring me? i think and think and think, i’ve thought myself out of happiness one million times, but never once into it."

Jonathan Safran Foer

A rose for you

Am i just torturing myself trying to reconnect with my past and holding onto a present I'm not even sure if I want ? And the future ? The future is way over my head but I feel that it's going to be a lonely one. The gray thunder cloud is heading my way, just when i thought I was going to be in the clear too..