It's morning and I am once again endlessly contemplating the impetuous yet critical decisions I am making. I concluded that I, in no way, shape, or form, am fearless. In fact, I am horrified. That's an overstatement. I'm certainly not horrified. But my inescapable indifference to everything ......................blows. Can't dream big. I most certainly can't do big. Or if I do dream big, I eventually find my way to the same goddamn wall that I seem to constantly be in front of. The godless, non-believing, life-blowing wall that has found me since my innocence went away. Maybe went away isn't the right description. Maybe innocence isn't the right word. My youth, perhaps. The very end of it destroyed me as a human being. It was the most beautiful and infinitely satisfying end to the life I hadn't known I had. The moment I realized that it was gone, the moment I realized that I even had it. And now I'm here, effortlessly wallowing at the days, the faces, places, and the immeasurable moments that my life had me. Sulking like a child. But I'm more composed now. I coolly, cynically, and comically endure my days now. The calm before the dead of my peeking adulthood. Or if I'm lucky, it'll get better from here. But only if I escape the discontentment. Only if I finally, if ever and goddamn hopefully, escape the astonishing and disappointing realizations of meaninglessness.
I propose a toast to myself and my undying need to be as depressing as always expected.
PS. Even New York dreams can't fucking sever me from this.
