The essence of life, the very fabric of living, is pain. There isn't a more logical or forthcoming answer. It makes perfect sense. Life is mess of unfinished conversations and unexpressed emotion. The pressure makes an unbearable and painful impression on us. If only I would have said this, then... then what? Then my life would be a euphoric zoo filled with fuzzy and adorable animals. That's what.
No.
This makes no sense. Nothing is coming out clearly. It's the pain. The pain of existing. The pain that exists at every level. It's the pain of the last glance made in happiness. It's the pain of that poorly orchestrated conversation where the person you hear speaking through your voice isn't the same person who is observing the conversation through your eyes and ears. This makes no sense.
No.
I have no idea. Words just drop. The thoughts are lofty. There is no balance between then. I'm foolishly optimistic about being optimistic. Pain. This makes no sense. What do I mean? I don't mean anything. I can't mean anything. Because the pain is there and the pain is a wall, between reality and the place of the observer. What does that even mean? I can be the observer, somehow. How? I have no idea. But I can't exist in the reality I observe. The pain prevents it. But what is pain? Its a worthless word that I use to cover up fear. Because I lied. Pain isn't the essence of life, fear is. Fear of the pain we think we understand.
Why?
Why not? Pain isn't the enemy. Fear is the enemy. I fear death. Because death represents pain. Failure. I can't be a good friend. I can't keep a friend to save my life. Fear. Death. Pain. Death is an excuse, too. An excuse that is a distant relative to pain. I make no sense. Forgive me, I live in fear.
I'm just going to keep on rambling about absolutely nothing. It's like my life exists in the span of one second. With a single tick, it's gone. I fear that loss. I fear pain. I can't define pain. But yet I defined pain. What does that mean? It means nothing. It's all meaningless. Meaningless is the way of life. I defined pain as something tangible, something that makes us weep and fall. But that doesn't mean anything. It can't mean anything. I'm not defined by the fact that I can't be human enough to tell my best friend I care and can't imagine life without him. But I am defined by it. Fear and pain. I lied again. They aren't distant relatives, they're brothers. Fear and pain. Fear makes pain, i fear to protect myself from pain but fear IS the source of pain.
Fuck my life.
Just say it out loud. SCREAM IT. Fuck my life. Pain is the essence of life. Fear is the essence of life. Unfinished and messy conversations kill us. The second hand ticks. Emotions remain unspoken. SPEAK THE EMOTIONS. Feel the emotions. This makes no sense. I'm weightless. There is no pressure. Fear isn't tangible. Pain isn't tangible. It's all a lie I tell myself so that I can have an excuse for being a moron. This makes no sense.
Love is pain, love is fear. Love wants you dead, so die already.
This makes no sense.
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