In my honest opinion, uncertainty is the worst feeling one could possibly have.  From uncertainty stems anxiety, and from my experience anxiety leads to loathing.  when something happens and for whatever reason you lose something or someone dear to you, you can at least accept that as an absolute, in most cases.  When you’re uncertain, you don’t know.  When you don’t know, you’re torn between hope and despair.  Hoping for something uncertainly sets you up to be possibly crushed into millions and millions of microscopic atoms of star dust.  The giant fist of reality fitted into the boxing of glove of despair crushes down on you and knocks you out in one fell swoop.  Luckily, I can remain indifferent to most stuff.  I’m uncertain about things and it drives me insane.  Is this just human nature?  Should I be so upset about something as simple as not knowing?  Ignorance is bliss… right?

Fuck no.  Not for me.

Ignorance used to be bliss.  To an extent, I envy those who can still manage to be ignorant.  But, for people like me (and by no means am I saying I’m special or anything) ignorance is the undoing of sanity and reality.  My newfound ignorance of recent personal matters has been my personal undoing.  The worst part about my situation is, I don’t give two fucks as to what the outcome will be.  I honestly do not care.  At this point, I just want to know what the fuck is going on.

I think too much?  Maybe.  Dismiss me as immature and insane.  Maybe you should…  This is my honest feeling though.  What I don’t know taunts my soul.  It’s not even the bigger questions in life like, ‘Why am I here?’ or ‘How can I live a meaningful life?’.  Of course, I’ve pondered questions like these and more with little avail.  It’s always fun to step outside of yourself and wonder why you’re here but, the small manageable questions have been the one’s that have been killing me lately.  It’s these small manageable questions that lead to, ‘What the fuck is going to happen?’  And until it happens, you’re left dangling in uncertainty.  

‎”The worst mistake that anyone could make is being afraid to make one.”

I can’t fucking write anything today.  My day was fine, same old shit.  But when I sit down and try to write something I can’t get past the first fucking sentence.  I’m living such a blah existence right now.  One of those days I guess, I feel exhausted from a night lying awake wondering why I can’t sleep. 

I can’t sleep because I have shit on my mind.  I can’t sleep because I want to sleep.  I can’t sleep because I feel anxious about nothing. 

For some reason I just feel like yelling.  I’m not even angry, I just think too much and I’m frustrated.

My chest and my stomach feel hollow right now.  You know that feeling when you’ve just done something wrong and been caught?  That feeling of uncertainty as to what will happen in the next few moments of your life?  I’ve had that feeling for the past few days, I have it right now as I’m writing.  

Try listening, to the voice that’s whispering, to you my love.

Funk

Hi everyone.  

I used to utilize tumblr daily until a group of peers found out about it and exposed it to the world.  The world being, of course, my world.  Sure I’m on here to have people hear my stories and comment on them, which I’m sure won’t happen for a while, but I really didn’t want the attention I received from my close friends.  I write as therapy, in a fucked up sort of way.  I’m not saying I have any serious problems, because I don’t, and I’m sure that many of you have been exposed to far worse than I could ever fathom.  Honestly, I’m an insomniac in pursuit of some kind of spiritual or intellectual ‘enlightenment’ of sorts.  I really hope my writing doesn’t sound pretentious, that’s not my intention at all.  I just don’t want people to know who I am.  I’ll just be one of the millions of anonymous writers on the internet.  I sincerely hope you enjoy what I have to say.