Typing...
Re-reading...
The backspace key is pressed down...
The page is blank again...
And the cycle repeats.
It's so weird to go from..."Wow, I know exactly what I'm doing in life" to "Yeah, I'm just surviving."
The confusion that arises in the gap between the two is no stranger to most of us in the world.
For weeks and months now, probably, the issue I kept having with this blog is finding good topics to write about. And for those topics to be readable, understandable and not too personal, or else it'll be rejected by the biggest critic of my life...myself.
So here I am, trying to make sense of a phase in my life where I feel nothing makes sense anymore.
The connection between the paragraphs cease to exist and I'm just left there as just another stranger on the internet with a lots to say about....something that no-one really understands.
Though for real, what I'm trying to say is...life doesn't make sense to us a lot of times. Like the way mine is going on right now. Because, the meaning of life is to keep going on, despite the ambiguity of the ideal and real-life.
Life is not perfect. Nor will it ever be. Sometimes it sure does feel that way. And then it goes back to feeling imperfect again.
Should I complain to the authorities on your behalf?
This article doesn't make sense, does it?
Perfect.
Re-reading...
The backspace key is pressed down...
The page is blank again...
And the cycle repeats.
It's so weird to go from..."Wow, I know exactly what I'm doing in life" to "Yeah, I'm just surviving."
The confusion that arises in the gap between the two is no stranger to most of us in the world.
For weeks and months now, probably, the issue I kept having with this blog is finding good topics to write about. And for those topics to be readable, understandable and not too personal, or else it'll be rejected by the biggest critic of my life...myself.
So here I am, trying to make sense of a phase in my life where I feel nothing makes sense anymore.
The connection between the paragraphs cease to exist and I'm just left there as just another stranger on the internet with a lots to say about....something that no-one really understands.
Though for real, what I'm trying to say is...life doesn't make sense to us a lot of times. Like the way mine is going on right now. Because, the meaning of life is to keep going on, despite the ambiguity of the ideal and real-life.
Life is not perfect. Nor will it ever be. Sometimes it sure does feel that way. And then it goes back to feeling imperfect again.
Should I complain to the authorities on your behalf?
This article doesn't make sense, does it?
Perfect.
No comments:
Post a Comment