I've been having a manic week. I've been having a manic life. Up and down and up and down and up. At least there's hope the end will be up. That'd be a nice surprise.
The recurring theme and realization of my life has been brought forth once again this past week- that I'm almost hopelessly fucking strange, and that the problems I face will undoubtedly become more- more in volume and more complex. OR. I will simply stay in this place I am now, and the problems I face won't be more but life will be empty and rarely worth living.
This past week has been strange in that while it was pretty fucking depressing, I sat there in contemplation of the whole thing- detached and slightly amused. I would wonder how I came to be this person, but I hate that mental trip into the twisted space of my memory- it's too vague and distorted. My life's sort of a joke, but it's not a funny joke.
So this week I have been having fun with a bit of self hatred, and a bit of plain old illness, and a bit of who gives a shit.
Things do get old, huh? Old and reused and recycled and recurring, and blah. Who cares?
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