I read the line, "The Mind is it's own beautiful prisoner," thought I should post it on my tumblr, and realized I am a hypocrite. A mindless drone, a brick in the same exact superficial society I so like to complain about, a scumbag of the teenage world, worse even then those not self aware enough to realize it. Which further convinced me of my own confusion.
I mean, basically and fundamentally and breaking-it-down-process-analysis, I am so confused. Plain, stale, old rotting bread, typical confused. I am drowning in my waves of confusion. About what? Everything. My state of mind alternates between utter happiness and dungeon-like morale. I can't even branch into a new paragraph because I don't know what my point is.
Maybe that's my issue.
Where is the fucking point to anything in this dreary world?
Why should I get a job and study for my math test and write my spanish homework?
In the words of my spoiled, babied self, I don't want to. Truly, I don't. Yet everyone and everything tells me I need to. I absolutely must learn to live in this fucking "real world" they talk about, and it confuses me. Am I not living in the REAL WORLD? What is the RealWorld? According to Them, I must stop using my brain right this instant and study for my test. Afterall, memorization trumps free thought. Right? That's what everyone says.
Bullshit is what I say. Or at least I think I say. Or hope I say. Or well.. would say if I possessed an actual backbone.
I had this awful dream a few nights past in which I was dead. I woke up with this horrible, seemingly obvious (yet is it really?) realization that one day I will be dead.
Lifeless, white, unmoving, dead. I will cease to exist and no one in the fucking world will care rather I studied for a calculus test in 2011 as I sat on my bed reading e.e. Cummings and coming to the unfortunate conclusion that I am entirely confused.
No one will fucking care. (Unless I become famous. In which case, hi everyone! I wonder what the hell my future self did for you to be interested in reading this).
Anyway, if no one will fucking care, then shouldn't I simply do whatever I want to do? Whatever spontaneous, silly, utterly ridiculous thing I want to do? Shouldn't I be "allowed" to travel and eat like a whale (without constantly feeling fat even though I AM NOT- yes brain, you better stop harassing me) and watch Seinfeld instead of doing homework and ponder life until I've sucked all the sweet juice out of it?
Or is that wrong? Because it sure makes me feel guilty. I just don't know if that guilt comes from inside my little heart or if society is trying to probe my conscience.
Oh goodness, I'm not only confused... I'm lost as well. I need someone to candidly tell me the facts of life before I go screw myself up. I think I'll try writing again. I feel better about myself when I do. My thoughts aren't lost to eternity when I write them down. And I (we) live in a society obsessed with mortality.
Excuse my ramblings, I must return to integration, velocity, spanish terms, and anxiety. Have a nice night, nobody.