In the wake of dread lay my mind unable to comprehend what might come next, it keeps me up shit keeps me up lack of direction keep me stuck in a rut. I go deeper I find out that it is infarct quagmire, not a crossroad. Figuring out the meaning of life is a mere obscurity now I cannot figure out what this mind has in-store for me now. I feel bipolar; one moment everything is narly in a moment which turns into gnarly. I don’t see it. I don’t see what I saw years ago. That drive is lost. That driver is lost, this is an unmanned vehicle now interact at your own risk.
Lets get it over with I say lets get out while we have something, while some of the sweet nectar of nostalgia is still present. Why, Oh why do I wish to do the same thing over and over. Getting my hopes up and then crumbling them like wafer. I can’t remember why I decided to change myself in the first place. Tried to make more of an effort to be a member of the mainstream why the reinvention when all I was going to do later was throw it away right into the drain like it meant nothing. But I guess it didn’t mean much since I forgot about it. Yes, I am talking about me. I forgot about me. I lost me. I had a gimps of me and it was too much. I could’ve been something but I didn’t want it. Why should I want it. After all it is just me. What have I done for me since? If I say me some more perhaps it will be meaningless.
Fuck me. Fuck everything about me.
PS : I will post rest of my depression stage paragraphs/blog posts after this one.