My eyes slowly glaze over to the right of me as the same familiar scenery drifts past my gaze slowly. Dully. Most of the time, it seems like everything around me is lying perfectly dormant. Completely, static, and lifeless. Time is hilarious in the kind of way where you can’t even raise a smile, let alone a chuckle. But the irony is unrelenting, and cruel. It’s funny in the sense that I’ve completely lost all sense of what time even is. As it is, it’s an abstract and relative term, but in relation to where I sit, it’s almost as if it doesn’t exist at all. My life is devoid of purpose, and my memories blur with my dreams. My aspirations flushed away like the excrement from my living carcass. Life is a tormenting thing when society finds a way to not only dim, but douse the flame of hope that surges you through life. Now I sit, an empty shell, through my own prescribed personal purgatory. My life consistently reminds me how insignificant it all is, as everything that I am sure that I actually see is humbling in the most unforgiving way. I used to hunger for more, this much I am sure of, but as I sit here I forget what hunger feels like, I used to thirst for change, but my thirst has been forcibly quenched. I’ve lost all sense of what the passions of life feel like, I only know what they are in concept. Darkness engulfs me, as the only light in the room has been the only noticeable thing to change, and not for the better. I yearn for the warmth from this light, but recoil from it’s chilling neglect. I’m tortured by its shunning indifference, and am reminded of how insignificant I am every day. Why does it hate me? Why has it expelled me from it’s loving embrace?
In the shadowy recesses of my mind, I piece together the remnants of a former life. Though my name, I cannot recall, I can only recall my cantankerous ambitions that went awry. My own face I barely recognize. My ghostly complexion, and my sunken eyes haunt me in my sleep. Was this the man I was supposed to be? Was this the life that I was supposed to lead? My thoughts often stray as I wonder what caused this fleeting damnation. I used to be able to look my reflection in the eyes, but the coldness of the reflection would always, without fail, send chills down my spine. As my eyes would shy away from my reflection I look at my body and wonder if I was ever capable of walking as my legs are as withered and dull, as the fabric that covers them. In the darkest, secluded corners of my subconscious, I dream in vibrant colors, but awake in cold sweats for reasons I do not know. I look at my arms and wonder if I was ever able to create with them, as they sit shackled to the ground, too withered to budge an inch. Connected to my arm flows perpetual liquids, of materials I do not know. Around the tubing I see indents of bite marks, for reasons I cannot remember. However, indented onto my mind is the unrelenting fury of failure.
I use to wonder the perplexities of how I got where I am, and wonder what I once was. But these answers have blurred into only pieces of stories that I can only visualize, but have lost the words to explain. Stories of great people who don’t look like me and that do not think like me. My life has become like a sail boat, but the my ocean does not rock me, it merely mocks me silently, but perpetually, as I drift past the stars.
“The thing is, we’re all really the same person. We’re just four parts of the one.” - Paul McCartney.
Jesus Christ, Superman’s becoming an instrument of propaganda and the U.S Military. Fucking A, it’s the 40’s all over again. I thought we were finally moving beyond petty American Nationalism with Superman, especially after he renounced his citizenship. Superman is a beacon of hope and of humanity, not a pawn of nationalism. Yes, I mad. Stay classy Warner Brothers and DC Comics.
the-pizza-is-aggressive asked: sup hottie
Hello good citizen.
Some elephants are just jerks.
Henrik Zetterberg turning down an interview with Pierre at the end of regulation in Game 7 | 5/29/2013
the most important thing on the internet.
why won’t every player do this to pierre
Pierre: Hank, can you take a moment to tell us what’s going through your h-
Zetterberg: Now? No. No. NO.
wow theyre so in love
Michael Cera : More than anything people recognize me from “The Social Network,” which I was not in.