Umm

May I suggest that if you give a damn, to go check out my tumblr account

www.perhapsmaybenot.tumblr.com

and follow me there if you're at all interested in my happenings

Double Bubble Bubble Gun

When did I stop caring so much about my family?
As much as I find it disturbing to think that I don't give a flying fuck about the intricacies of everyday life that used to make moments worth living, I really don't miss the excitement regarding it infectious anymore.
Is that sad?
Am I morally obligated to find the everyday utterly fantastic?
I mean, I hear the same story, 5 different ways, 5 different views, and each tone is still just wanting me to accept and relate.
But, I'm sorry, I can't do that anymore.
Please, if your lives are so miserable, fix them. Take matters into your own hands, step up, find courage, do whatever means necessary and just live.
Stop living in fear, stop looking back and move forward.
For fucks sake, we weren't raised to rely but on anyone but ourselves, yet here we are - myself including - finding crutches to make our life easier.
Why?
Do we do it because we've given up?
Do we really feel so low about ourselves and our worth to just say 'here, help me, don't leave me, I need you/it/this'?
I don't think so. I really don't.
But it's almost as if the easiest way out is the only way out when you really have lost all creativity...

Sorry.

Maybe...

I'm going to write something here.
I want to.
But I don't know what it's going to be...
Here's something old, that I wrote awhile ago::

"I would hate to be your downfall
The entire free lull;
It's the googleplexities,
The needing of your extremities.
Dying outside, and rotting from my core.
The low.
So low.
I lost your voice,
Hello?"

Yeah. It doesn't make sense. Much like everything else I've been thinking lately.
It's all just a mess, a compository of thought that refuses to sort itself out.

How can one want something that's never been had?...