What actually am I supposed to do? Is this all there is? But at the same time, the possibilities of existence in this life are awesome. But how awesome are they really? Wouldn’t I feel better , more optimistic, more motivated if this life were really that great?
I know intellectually that every single one of my problems and solutions are my own issues, but even so, I can’t seem to bring myself to an ecstatic way of being.
How do some of these people wake up excited to work on their dream life?
How do they lack sleep, yet go on feeling fulfilled? How can they barely get themselves to sleep at night, because they’re so excited to be awake again to life their lives, their fantasies?
Most of the time, all I want to do is sleep so I can escape life. I want to “just have fun” (whatever that might mean in the moment) so that I can escape real life. Most of the time, I wonder if all the experiences in life aren’t escapes themselves, from something even greater.
And then, sometimes, I wonder about all those celebrities, or maybe even people I haven’t heard of, that seem to die at a young age from things like drug overdoses and what not, and I wonder if everyone living got it all wrong.
Of course it’s tragic to those that are left living with that person’s absence. But what if to that person, it wasn’t tragic at all? What if it wasn’t a “cry for help”?
What if they were just so over living this fucking life, that they found a way out, and it was a damn relief?
