Sometimes I get so tired of trying to be someone or do something.  I don’t know.  Is everyone wired to wish that they were something more than they will ever become?  Why are humans so fucking discontent.  There are sermons about this almost every Sunday when you really break it down.  Trying to teach us to go ahead and just be okay with whatever is happening in the world and in our lives and think that all is truly for the best – when reality is that we’re all trapped in this never ending systematic machine and life is a series of meaningless tasks and quests.

It feels that way today at least.

I wake up.

I do chores.  I take care of my kids.  I pine away about places I’ve been and people I miss – but in the end everything ends up basically the same.  The same dreams are deferred to another season, another time.

I want to understand all of these things.  I want to continue walking becasue society tells me that suicide is not the answer – and yet… I contemplate my own death many times a day.  Many times a day I find myself thinking about the mortality or immortality of my soul.  I find myself wondering if the soul is even a real thing or a simple imagincary manifestation that we conjoured to make life bearable. – because really, what are we doing here.  What are we doing here right now.  While I’m typing this.  Who do I think that I am going to see?  Who do I think is going to end up viewing this thing that I’m rwriting.  This thing that I’m doing what my life and with myself.  Because right now I don’t see an end that makese sense.  I don’t see any end at all

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