18/11/2001 - 12:49 a.m.

Epiphany

Why am I living this horrific forced march that is my life? Why do I keep doing the same meaningless shit and hating it? Why am I getting up every day and going to some shithole school and doing stupid shit so that eventually I can go and do stupid shit every day and get paid to do it, world without end and then die? What am I doing? Why am I so scared to just live? Why does it matter to me so much that I do all the right stuff? Everybody says that if I don't enjoy myself now, I never will- and I never thought they could possibly be right, but they are. A few more years the way I am now, and I turn into my mother- like it or not. What do I want to do that for?

Why don't I just stop doing what everybody wants me to do and have some fun, damn it? I told myself three years ago I was going to start having some fun, and what have I been doing? I've been staying at home nights, reading bloody books about things that happened a million years ago that don't have anything to do with anything anyway and hoping that someday, by magic, things would just get better. I've been waiting for life to happen, I haven't been living. Why not? Because I'm too scared to. I haven't been prepared to live, I've been prepared to exist, to do just like every other meaningless human being on this earth. I don't want to do that. I don't want to subsist and get by. I want to do something and not care if I get by or not. I want to go out and experience things, you can't experience things third handed. I have to stop living my life through everybody else's, and get out there and find out what there is that I'm missing the way I am now.

The everything I've got is so, artificial. I say one thing and mean another, I do things for reasons I can't begin to explain but are really "because it's expected". By who? Not me. So why do it? I haven't got anybody worth living for that wants those things from me. Why does going on and doing really well consist of doing what's expected of you in spite of what you might want? Because I don't want that at all, I want to leave here and travel, and do stuff. I want to meet people, and write about them and let everybody else know what living is, and there's no way I can do that now. I can't tell anybody else how to live until I've done it.

Practically everything I've ever done in my whole life was absolutely and utterly wrong. Right now, I could get up and walk out the door and change it. Dissappear into the night and not care what might happen tomorrow. Tomorrow morning, I'll be too chicken again. Tomorrow morning I'll continue to write the same angsty drivel that misses any real substance, any life other than the false one I'm living. What am I talking about, tomorrow? Tonight I'm still too afraid. I just want to talk, and that doesn't count for anything. Nothing.

Why is it so hard for me to commit to anything? A lifestyle, a decision, an opinion? I just make stuff up for a moment until I find something more convenient for the next moment, but I'm stubborn and stupid about trivial shit. Why am I doing all this? Cause I'm scared of what'll happen to me if I don't. I'd rather fill in the blanks of what's expected from me from some damned society that doesn't even do what's expected of it. It goes out and has a good time on a Saturday night becuase it's a liar too. It only says we should be good, but it knows better. I'm living the opposite lie: we should be bad, but I know better. So what's the truth? The truth is that none of that garbage matters at all. It's all a line forced down by religion, government, and other stupid evils all made to keep the populace in line, because we are not animals or something. We'd be better off if we realised that once and for all, we were animals.

Nothing matters, so stop being afraid of it. But, I can't. I'm too afraid. Shit.