Is anything of any importance? Does it really matter whether you do something useful? Find your own way in life? What difference does it make eventually? The people you get to meet, some stay longer, some vanish within a split second. Does it matter whether you work your ass off, have an academic degree or just linger on plowing from the government? Where's the line and who draws it? Does anyone care about your existence? Is somebody's life any better just because you are there? If indeed you really are there ...

At the end of the day we are all forlorn and lonesome just like the stars in the sky. They just seem to be part of something bigger but really aren't. They're just glowing and phosphorizing, each and every single one on their very fucking own. And the same goes for us. There's this theory about exploding stars which we do not get to realize about 300 years later. So what you see in the sky might actually no longer be existent. But what do you call that? A nocturnal, astronomic mirage? So even the universe is playing tricks on us.

There's parties, booze, friends, work, spare time, sex, emotions ... but what for? Wilder had his Stage Manager say "you've got to love life to live life, and you've got life love to love life." - oh, how very poetic and meaningful, but totally prosaic at the same time. Or Woolf saying you cannot live life by avoiding it. Sometimes I feel like even the company of all those writers is totally non-sensical. Sounds great. Means a shit. What does that have to do with anything? Nada. Niente.

I just feel so alone when it's so patently obvious that I'm not. I'm surrounded by stuff, people (some more relevant than others, but still), energy, memories ... at any rate, I kind of became run-of-the-mill. Nothing's special about me any longer. I once had that feeling and I was actually able to cling on to it for a few years ... but somehow I got deprived of it. And the very fact that most people haven't even had this special mood, not even for once in their lives doesn't help at all. Sometimes I wish I were more of a go-along-personality, someone who's able to feel happy just by doing what all the others are doing. But I'm not and I never was. Trying to be different, somehow "above" is getting strenuous at times. On the other hand, I wouldn't have this desire to do something outstanding if there wasn't something inside me that really is special. It's all so very weird. And I can't stop trying to understand myself. We all do that, wanting to understand ourselves but sometimes it feels like a desease to me.

God, let me be superficial. Take back some of that profundity. Cause it's making me wanna puke right now. I even doubt the good things happening around me. Like on a regular basis. I just don't seem to be able to take things for what they are. I'm always asking where XY is gonna lead me and whether this is of any good or whether that happened for a reason etc. blablabla I have those days where I can hear myself thinking non-stop. It even goes so far that I already know in advance what my next thought is gonna be all about. You know that state of mind where you're actually bored with yourself? These days where you're sick and tired of your own predictability? Anyway, whoever says you can become a different person is a total liar. You can't. At least not in a U-turn style. You cannot become someone completely different. So in a way we're all trapped and caged within our very own self. It's just that some realize their own cage - and some don't. Now guess, which group of people I'd rather belong to?

So we're the all singing, all dancing crap of the world. Which is hilarious, actually. Anarchy starts at home! Cheers to that!