Life is so boring at this present moment in time I could not be more burnt out with my routine my job my weekends my appearance the people around me everything It is no one’s fault but my own that this mindset is upon me I have not done anything new in the past few years I’ve been in the same town in the same job doing the same exact thing every day as if it is Groundhog Day the worst part about it is I have no idea or motivation to do anything else I am well into my late 20s and life is comfortable it’s confusing because it’s good but also not because I have no moments of “I can’t believe this is my life! How amazing!” Is it too early for me to be having a midlife crisis at 28? In my world as it is right now I am not depressed so much as if this is what life is going to be like, I’m going to continue spending a lot of time waiting for the end of the day
My life's presupposition is volatile meaning. Unfathomable disposition dispersed amongst the heavens. Until one blightful day, I become; the bounds of my existence tethered to soil and flesh, understanding nothing but suffering. Blood and bones interwoven into another unfathomable hypothesis; potentiality and its unknown repercussions. Adhering only to the reality of mortality and the confines to which that is inherent. Its like dropping an anchor in the ocean of being, with the assumption that every ripple made will contribute to the tide, with or without the ability to float. But I sink either way, for that is our duty. To move under the bounds of gravity and the tides of reality until we reach the bottom of our fruitfulness. And then we return to the volatile meaning from which we came, that ripples outward as our contribution to the future.
Bored at work, trying to look busy, feeling a little poetic I guess
Sunlight beats in through the window offensive and obscene. I wonder what ungodly sound just awoke me, was it only the alarm, or was it the deafening sound of my conscious that so disturbed me? Upon waking, one has to ignore the weight of existence Or drown in it's wake. Sleep, running away from me, abandoning me, Has led me here to this moment. Rising out of bed, reborn from the night, for the millionth time, and still always questioning everything. "What has my life brought me to, that I must continue to wake for it, and why is it more worthy than sleep? Is participation in life truly necessary? Why does each day bring with it the same repetition I've always known?" Sun rays never speak, never answer The questions that morning brings.