Life seems rather to be a battery and a pendulum.
Whatever fun you believe to be chasing comes crushing you down right after. Whatever feeling of belonging comes snatched right after.
I’m not sure whether to keep pressing on the accelerator or acknowledge the futility; that everything is an alchemical exchange.
Whatever satisfaction, so it comes swiftly evicted and fills in a melancholy that doesn’t have a name. Work yourself up enough in that melancholy only to be snapped back into that superficial place prior.
This is why working from a place of idealism is more sane, because at least in the abstract one may have their fill.
Condemned to be free, only to realize that most advertisements kill you slowly – the you that matters, at least.
I guess the only thing left to do is to stop swinging and let it sit still atop the memory lake of your life.
I’m sure you’re familiar with the feeling. It’s a, “so what happens next?” with an eyebrow raised. Or a genuine encouragement for the play to go on.
It’s uncomfortable to admit the battery-like existence, but it seems whether in ecstasy or dread they both kill you slowly; as though it’s not a pendulum of good-bad emotion, but rather a 3D square and the swings pull one closer to the edge labelled “hollow”.
I guess that’s why the vices are as so: they hollow you.